


Lycan Unit

by Higgystar



Series: Lycan Universe [1]
Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: AU, Gen, M/M, werewolfAU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-17
Updated: 2015-11-17
Packaged: 2018-02-11 03:50:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 34,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2052456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Higgystar/pseuds/Higgystar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>WerewolfAU</p><p>Daryl is a werewolf and he's given the choice between prison or serving time in King's County's police force as a member of their new Lycan unit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Life ain’t never been easy for him being a werewolf.

Raised to be vicious it was hard to be anything but and with Merle as his main influence in life it wasn’t long until the two of them were in trouble with the law. Humans caught them, snared them by those fucking poles and dragged them down until they were caged. He remembers fighting, snarling at the damned cops who’d caught them and hating when the judge had given them a choice.

The pound or giving themselves over to service.

Merle had been in the pound before, he remembers the way the other weres would kill, bite and snarl from behind their bar, unafraid and forced to wear shock collars to keep them under control of the humans. Merle picks service and is shipped off to the army.

It’s his first real offence, the judge looks on him kindly, tells him he’s being given a chance not to become his brother and to make something of himself. He finds it fucking degrading but he doesn’t say that, instead he bows his head and accepts the words as if he doesn’t want to chew her face off. He was to be placed under house arrest of one of the officers he’d been caught by and made to help work at his station. Apparently being a small station they didn’t have what they’d needed when their county had expanded and apparently with drug use and violence on the rise they were in need of a Lycan unit.

He was going to be it.

King’s County wasn’t actually as much of a shithole as he’d expected and living on the outskirts of the place he’s surprised he hadn’t noticed it before. The cop’s place is nice enough but it takes time for him to settle in to his place at both his new home and on the force. But time passes, everything falls into place and now here he was, laid out on the backseat of the cop car as his partners bicker in the front.

Rick and Lori were having problems again, Shane was talking about his latest squeeze and he was trying to get some rest in the midday sun. They’ve been working together for years, the two in front had been friends since forever and somehow he’d gone from their burden to their friend and now their partner. Even if they were the assholes who had caught he and Merle in the first place.

Living with Shane wasn’t actually as bad as he’d thought it was going to be. For a human he wasn’t that bad really. Shane made decent enough food, didn’t complain too much about his shedding and the evenings they spent together drinking and watching shitty TV were pretty good fun. Most of the force weren’t exactly pleased with his presence, werewolves were always seen to be unreliable and vicious, but Shane didn’t mind working with him and treated him fairly considering the circumstances. He knew neither Rick nor Shane had wanted to be responsible for him, but they’d taken the role on, and now the three of them had become quite the team.

Daryl didn’t like admitting to anyone that he actually liked his job. It was meant to be a punishment, an alternative to time in the big cage and he wasn’t meant to enjoy it. But when it came down to it he actually liked what he did.

His responsibilities were to help out mainly with scent detection cases, drug searches, manhunts and missing persons. Scent based evidence was his forte and being able to communicate easily with the human side of his team meant he was better at it then the K9 unit they had. King’s County wasn’t exactly the most thrilling place to work, but he did his best and now a few years down the line he was by far the best tracker they had. Of course he’d had to go through the training like everyone else, both human and canine, but he knew he was still seen as threatening and a loose canon.

Sighing to himself he leans back against the seats, arms folded behind his head as he lets his feet stick out the rear window, making the most of their lunch stop to relax. He liked his job, he liked his new home, he liked his roommate and he liked not being in the pound. He even got to be part of the protection of his partners, taking down the bad guys and using his lycan side to his advantage and showing what he was made of. It was fun, he got enough money to be able to afford half decent things and he had real friends for the first time in his life, people he would even consider his pack, but only to himself.

Rick and Shane laugh in the front seat, mocking each other, talking about women, problems and stupid things that happen in relationships. Scoffing a little he stretches, arching against the back seat with a yawn and shifting to kick at the back of Shane’s seat. “They way you talk it’s no wonder none of your women want to be with you longer than one night.” He points out, getting a huff from Shane and a laugh from Rick.

“Hey looks who’s talking.” Shane turns in his seat, glaring at him a little. “I ain’t seen you with anyone since I’ve known you.” He points out.

Growling in the back of his throat Daryl gives a half hearted shrug, not exactly offended over being single when his chances were limited anyway. “Ain’t my fault there ain’t no decent bitches around these parts. Not like I ain’t been looking.” Werewolves were few and far between but living with humans inside of a township made the numbers dwindle to practically nothing. He was the only one so far as he knew, most wolves preferred to live outside in the open, ranging in large territories and packs mingling with each other. So separating himself by moving in with Shane meant his love life had taken a hit for it.

Rick laughs a little, leaning back to look at him in the rear view mirror as he speaks. “Oh please you haven’t scented a single hydrant, you ain’t looking.”

“I think you’re too attached to your pillow.” Shane joins in the heckling with a grin, making him sit up and growl at the implications. “The amount you’ve been humping that thing I don’t think you even need a mate; you already got one.”

“Hey!” He snaps, lunging forwards in his seat to grab at Shane, aware that it’s all a joke but sometimes they liked to push things too far. Growling a little he tries to tip Shane’s food into his lap, ignoring Rick’s laughter as he and Shane half wrestle and half shove at each other. The human grabs at his shirt, ruffles his hair and chuckles, not scared of him at all even as he snaps at him playfully.

_“Lycan unit, we’ve got a situation on Clover street, requesting your assistance.”_

The radio interrupts and Rick shoves him back to the back seat so he can grab at it. Immediately Daryl is listening, ears pricked, scrabbling onto his knees and wanting to know exactly what they were getting into. This was the thing he loved about the job, the adrenaline rush and not knowing what to expect every day. “Missing person? Weapons check? Cash hunt? Tracking?” All of them are fun and meant he got to be the hero of the day since it was something humans weren’t so good at.

“Lycan unit here, what’s the situation?” Rick shoves him back again, a palm to his muzzle and gently nudging him away from panting excitedly into the radio. He can’t help it, right now the excitement was building and he knows the humans want it to be something good too. Living in a small county was nice, but it meant they never really got anything too exciting, but today might be that day.

_“Busted a drug den, need the place searched properly and the three guys we caught too.”_

Snorting to himself he slumps back into his seat, unimpressed with the answer. “Eurgh boring, we’re never going to get on one of those cop shows.” Shane laughs a little before reaching back to pat at his head, consoling him through the annoyance of having to do the grunt work because it was faster for his nose to find the drugs than for them to search it. Well at least they got to do something today other than patrol.

“Alright we’ll be there in ten.” Rick continues, ready to sign off before Shane snatches the radio from his hands, pressing the button and practically demanding his orders down the line.

“Make sure the floor is clear of paraphernalia, I’m not having Daryl almost slice himself open again because you didn’t clear the area of needles properly Leon.” Shane orders and Daryl adds a snarl to the end for punctuation, remembering the last incident with Leon’s absent mindedness when he’d nearly punctured himself on a syringe.

_“Yeah yeah I got it.”_

Leon’s response is mixed with a gulp of fear and sure maybe Daryl didn’t like being seen as a monster, but that boy needed to be kept in line if he was ever going to grow a pair.

The three of them move in sync, Shane grabbing the trash from their lunch and tossing it as they drive past a trash can, Rick starts the car and pulls away, leaning back to offer him the last of his sandwich and Daryl snaps it up eagerly before removing his vest. Bracing himself against the roof he doesn’t bother belting himself in as Rick drives, instead he takes the moment to pass his vest to Shane before shifting. When he was younger it had been a terrifying experience, but now it was like simply changing his clothes.

Shaking himself he knows his partners are still fascinated by the change but give him the privacy to do it without their stares. Heck Shane should be used to it by now, they lived together and he spent a decent amount of time shifted at home when the moon called to him. The car lurches to the side and he has to press himself against the seat not to fall over, giving a bark to Rick he’s pleased when he gets an apology. Moving over to Shane’s side of the car he wedges himself between the head rest and the side of the car, feeling the breeze from the window on his muzzle and panting in happiness that at least he got to do something today.

Shane is busy altering his vest for him, zipping up the extra darts that are there for when he’s in human form and making it appropriate for his new shape. It had taken him a while to learn to get used to wearing the vest when shifted, clothes were something for human form, so feeling the vest over his fur had taken time to get used to. He’d tried to refuse it, but the bulletproof vest was a part of his uniform and there for his protection and the higher ups gave him no other option. So he got used to it and now he wore it with pride.

They pull up at the scene, noting the other couple of cars already pulled up and the officer on the door ready to greet them. Daryl can’t help but wag his tail in excitement, sure it wasn’t going to be a chase, but it was going to be fun all the same. Barking loudly he paws at the window, making Rick laugh as he comes around to open the door for him since paws weren’t made for this sort of thing. He’s practically bouncing on the spot, ready to work and get this done, to show the humans how useful he could be and make that Leon shake in his boots.

He goes to jump down but his partners seem to be able to read his excitement and block his way, Rick placing a hand against his chest as Shane closes the final panel on his vest for him. “Hang on there bud, gotta get you dressed first.” Shane hushes him, holding the vest for him to step into and reaching to snap all the buckles into place for him. His badge is sewn to the front, Lycan 001 his number right there next to his name, bold and making sure everyone knows that he’s not just some canine. He’s the only Lycan unit there is so of course he’s number one, but heck he is the best as well.

Checking his harness is secure Shane pats his side, indicating that he’s suited up and ready to go as his partners step back to let him pass. Bounding out of the car he can hear Rick and Shane trying to decide between them who was joining him on the search and who was going to deal with the arrested men. They resort to rock, paper, scissors and soon enough Shane is following Daryl into the house with a grin on his face since he’d won.

The place is a dump, dirty, clearly lacking any kind of pride in the place and used merely as a workplace for these people. He can smell the drugs in the air, and the second they’re in the room with Leon he’s shifting close enough to get the other man on edge. Leon is intimidated by his size, and of course he uses that to his advantage until he can smell the anxiety on the other man.

“Alright Leon what we looking for?”

“Uh drugs.” The man stumbles over his words, inching away from Daryl and of course he watches him closer, not breaking eye contact and making sure to lick at his muzzle as if he’s hungry.

“No shit Sherlock, what kind of drugs Leon? We looking for a big bust or a baggie here?”

Daryl huffs a little, ignoring the men bicker over the finer details and starting his search. Despite Shane’s earlier warning he keeps a wary eye out for needles, not trusting Leon to do his job properly, as he searches. The place has an overlying odour of drugs, the place is pretty much covered and he has to focus to start finding the real stashes hidden out of sight. Tail high in the air he starts in the room they’re in, pawing at the couch and making sure to check every nook and cranny as he follows the scent.

Barking loud to alert Shane he indicates to the ventilation cover, scrabbling at it and calling for him to come over and get the drugs he couldn’t physically get to. His partner is there in a second, placing a marker on the spot before nodding for him to continue and find more. Daryl knows he’s the best at his job, he knows there’s no one else human or canine who can do what he does and he loves proving to the world that he’s worth something. At first he and Shane hadn’t gotten on too well, but now they’re like a well oiled machine, him leading through the rooms and barking to indicate stashes, Shane marking them and letting him know he’s doing a good job.

The house is full of drugs and paraphernalia, more and more spots are marked, more evidence bags are filled and the list of crimes building up against the thugs grows. He’s proud to be a part of this bust, listening to the humans discuss how much money this all would have been worth on the street and each of them following he and Shane as they work. Soon enough they have a crowd growing as they move to the garage, Shane watching closely as he circles the room for the fourth time.

“What is it Daryl?”

It’s not like he can explain that there’s something in here, something big and definitely their main stash. It makes sense, it’s close to the car, ready to be taken out as soon as possible and sold. He just can’t seem to get a pinpoint on it at all, it’s as if the scent is all around them, consuming the room and leaving him wondering where the hell it is. Scraping his claws over the floor he can feel that it’s concrete, no way there’s anything under there, there’s no false walls, no hidden areas or closets that he can see. Growling to himself his tail twitches in frustration, and he knows Shane can read him easily.

“You’ll get it bud, it’s gotta be here somewhere right?” Barking in agreement he trails around the garage one last time, standing on his hind legs to sniff at the air and barking when the scent gets stronger as he does so. Circling the area he barks repeatedly, letting Shane know he’s on to it, raising his muzzle in the air and indicating that he needed to go up. “For God’s sake, you know how heavy you are in wolf form man?” Shane grumbles, but helps him out anyway.

Using the wall as a brace he stands on his hind legs, letting Shane grab at his harness on the vest and lift him high enough to be a step for him to get to the handmade storage space above them. Scrabbling on the wood he gets his footing, grateful for Shane’s shove getting him up that high and wagging his tail when he finds exactly what he’s looking for.

Howling at his success he knows this was the last thing to find here, and by far the best haul they’d ever had. Well it hadn’t been anything too exciting, but they’d definitely get a write up for this, a mention in the paper and heck maybe that was something to be quite proud of. Beneath him people call for a ladder and a flashlight and soon enough Shane is beside him on his hands and knees, shining a light on the huge stack of white packages before them.

“Holy shit man.” Shane laughs, reaching out to pat at his side, pleased with their progress and clearly amazed with their success. Leaning back to look back down below Shane calls to the rest of them, his fingers still running through the thick russet fur of Daryl’s side. “Gonna need the whole team to bag and tag this lot guys. Biggest stash I’ve ever seen. Shit Daryl, you found the fucking gold mine.”

Hell yeah he did. Barking in agreement he knows that their work was done here, wagging his tail he paws to Shane, wanting to get back down from being so high up. His partner knows he’s not too keen on heights, he knows what he wants and backs down the ladder halfway to let him follow, using the first few steps to brace himself as Shane grabs his harness. Rick steadies him from below, taking his weight and not leaving him feeling unsupported for long, easing him down until all four paws are on the ground.

Shaking the moment of discomfort off he holds his head high, padding out of the garage and into the open air of the garden, pleased with himself and not willing to be modest about it. Rick and Shane follow him, the two of them congratulating him on a job well done, patting at his head and sides as he trots between them enjoying the sun. It’s nice, reassuring to actually be appreciated for doing his job and it’s a little ritual they have after a successful job to go out for a night. Of course since he was the hero of the hour it meant the food was his choice and there was only one thing he ever chose.

“Let me guess, pizza again?” Rick asks and he wags his tail in agreement. They didn’t understand it, before he’d come to work with them he’d never had pizza before and getting to have greasy melted cheese on bread with tomato sauce and smothered in any kind of meat he wanted was practically heaven for him. “Jesus I’m going to get fat if you keep choosing that all the time, it’s a wonder you don’t put any weight on.”

“Trust me the amount of exercise he does running about the track there’s no way he’s going to put on a pound. You should try catching him afterwards.” Shane sighs and Daryl growls at him a little for implying that he was some dumb pet that Shane had to reign in. Nipping at the man’s pant leg is his way of scolding him and he’d use his bulk to shove at him more if he didn’t catch a sudden scent in the air.

He knows he’s got all of the drug stashes inside the house already and this was trailing away from the property anyway. Not one to give up unless the job was done properly he lowers his head, circling the area until he finds the trail and can begin following it. Tail high in the air he begins padding through the grass nose to the ground and ears pricked forwards as he starts tracking. Shane and Rick fall into step behind him, curious at his sudden change in mood and calling to let the others know they were following a lead.

Daryl loses himself when he’s tracking, entirely focussed on the scent filling his nose and padding along the pavement beneath his paws. The scent is a mix of drugs and human sweat, someone was terrified, scared and it’s the scent of prey that he’s following. Immediately his instincts perk up and he’s on the hunt, panting as he quickens the pace and oblivious the world around him. Voices call for him, a hand grabs at his harness and he’s trying to jerk free, rounding a corner and dragging his partner with him as he finds the source of the delicious scent.

Prey. Enemy. Drugs. Weapon. Gun. Pack. Protect.

“Hey! Drop the weapon!”

“Hands in the air!”

A hand tightens on his harness, Shane holding him back as he lunges, snapping and snarling at the young man before them, a constant barrage of growls and barks from his throat as he tries to intimidate the threat into submission. Rick has his weapon drawn, steadied on the man that’s got a drug packet in his jacket, the one who’s got a gun drawn and pointed at them. His partners. His people. His pack. Shane’s hands are occupied with keeping him steady, using their training to let him lunge enough to be a threat but not letting go until he has to, the harness is tight across his chest but he doesn’t care, right now all he’s focussed on is getting the weapon away from his packmates.

His front legs are off the ground as he strains against Shane’s hold, his vest taut over his body and he can feel the buckles groan a little as he tries to use all his weight to get free. Shane is used to it and keeps him back, both he and Rick yelling demands of the scared kid in front of them, trying to get him to lower the weapon and give up since he was caught. He can barely hear them he’s too busy threatening him, using his noise and body to be the defender his partners need when there was a weapon aimed at them. Ears pinned back, fur on end, hackles raised, tail straight and he’s ready to do what needed to be done.

The kid doesn’t put down the gun, he’s begging, he’s saying about having nothing to do with it and just finding the place. He wants them to believe that he wasn’t involved, he was just there when the bust went down, got out with the drugs because he thought he had a shot at getting away. Daryl doesn’t believe a damned word of it and then the kid takes a step back and Shane says the words he’s been longing to hear.

“Don’t do it man. You run and I’ll let him loose and trust me, you don’t want that!”

But he does. He wants to teach this kid who was in charge here and make sure he knew to never ever hold a weapon at his packmates again. How dare he? The little shit thought they were stupid or something, they thought they were going to fall for that and think he was innocent? Snarling loudly he scrambles to get free, wanting the kid to run, wanting to do his job properly and be the wolf he was at heart.

His superior hearing notices the click of the hammer, he can see the way the kid tenses for just a second and then he’s running and all hell breaks loose.

Daryl barely hears the gun go off as Shane lets go of his harness, allowing him to lunge forwards, bolting across the pavement, eyes bright, fangs sharp and bloodlust high as he barrels into the kid. There’s a loud noise as he tackles him, a feeling like a punch to his side, his jaws close on the kid’s weapon arm and he bites down as hard as possible. He feels the snap as much as he hears it, the bones grind together, lax fingers drop the weapon and he shakes his head ferociously as he gets the enemy to know he’s in charge.

The prey screams but he doesn’t let go, he’s not to let go until his packmates are safe and there’s only one way to know that. Snarling he fixes his gaze on the kid, able to smell the fear on him, the terror in his eyes and he knows this is what he was made to do. Blood trickles into his mouth through the kid’s clothing, his tongue is stained with it, he can smell it everywhere and it’s intoxicating.

“Daryl! Release!”

His jaws go lax, he backs away from the kid and hands are on his side, Shane kneeling next to him as Rick cuffs the kid, ignoring his sobs and begging for first aid. Daryl can’t stop growling, he’s still worked up but he knows his training, he knows his commands and is nothing if not a professional. There’s a call for an ambulance to tend to the kid but he knows it’s only a broken arm, nothing he’ll get reprimanded for, not when the kid had pulled a weapon on a couple of cops, that alone gave him the right to use force.

Licking at his lips he can taste the blood and when the kid struggles against Rick’s hold he takes a step forwards, ready to attack again if he needed to. The kid flinches, Shane’s hands come to rest on his sides to settle him down and the adrenaline rush finally, slowly begins to fade from his body. “It’s okay bud, you got him, you did good.” Shane hushes him, knowing that he needs a moment to calm himself after an attack. His partner knows him well, he knows that a threat to any of them can get him worked up and that he needs to just know that they’re well and safe.

Rick’s calling in everyone over his radio, getting them back up, telling the curious civilians to get back and telling the kid his rights. Leaning closer he rests his head against the man’s thigh, able to hear his still fast heartbeat and smell that he’s not injured at all. Shane is still there kneeling beside him, and he can’t help but rest his muzzle against his cheek, licking at him gently to know he’s well, safe, breathing and alive.

The threat fades from his mind, he knows his packmates are safe, the threat is down and he’s protected them as he needed to do. Finally he can relax and the moment he does so he feels the flare of pain from his side. Beneath his vest he can feel a wetness and suddenly he can smell the taint of his own blood in the air. Panting heavily he can’t twist back to see it, he feels weak all of a sudden and before he can shift and explain what’s happening he’s slumped over Shane’s lap, chest heavily and pain flaring from the bullet wound in his side.

“Daryl? Daryl!” Shane is yelling, his tongue lolls from his mouth there’s a dampness over his side from the blood and now he can feel again he whines in pain and agony. Fingers tear at his vest, pulling it free from his matted fur and he yelps, a hand coming to the centre of the pain and pressing against it, adding pressure to the wound and he snaps, wanting to stop whoever was hurting him. It’s too much and he can’t move, can’t twist back to get them and more hands are in his fur, Rick is there over him too and he can smell a mix of pack and blood and his own terror.

“It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay bud.”

“Someone get the damned ambulance here now! Officer down you hear me? Officer down!”

Fingers curl through the fur over his cheeks, they’re both talking to him as someone calls over the radio, there’s a talk about something around him but all he can focus on is Rick and Shane’s faces above him. His tail wags lightly against the ground, everything feels shaky around him and he can’t think about anything other than his pack, his family, safe. Safe.

“You’re gonna be just fine Daryl you hear me? Daryl? Daryl!”

Pack safe.


	2. Chapter 2

_“Fucking help him!”_

_“Sir please, we cannot treat him when he’s in wolf form. The ambulance shouldn’t have even taken him in…”_

_“It’s a bullet wound for Christ’s sake!”_

_“Sir we are only permitted to treat people.”_

_“He is people!”_

_“Treat him please!”_

_“Sir we can’t! If he was shifted then we could, but we don’t have anyone trained in wolf biology here, we could cause more damage if we tried.”_

_“He’s gonna die if you don’t help him!”_

_“Please he’s bleeding so much!”_

There’s a steady beeping around him, something is strapped around his muzzle, his chest feels tight, he doesn’t recognise any of the scents around him and he’s never felt so drowsy before. Whining lightly he paws at whatever he’s resting on, feeling sheets against his toes, his claws catching on them lightly as he blinks himself awake. It’s bright, horrible fluorescent lights above him, awful sterile cleanliness around him and there’s pinpricks of pain over his body as well as the continuous ache at his side.

Fingers lace into the fur at his neck, combing through his scruff, soothing and calming as he tries to open his jaws, tongue only able to run over his lips since they’re held together so tightly. He doesn’t like having his most dependable weapon disabled and immediately he’s trying to sit up, groaning when the room spins around him and the hand presses him back down to the bedding. 

“Hey bud, stay calm alright?” Shane keeps his voice low, but Daryl can hear the smile in it and he’s so fucking glad that his handler is here with him, stroking through his fur and ready to explain. With Shane here he wasn’t going to be attacked, packmates looked out for each other after all. “It’s a muzzle, I know you hate them but it’s policy in the hospital.”

He growls a little in agreement, lifting a paw to rub at the material loosely wrapped about his muzzle and huffing when Shane stops him. There’s needles in him, things are clipped about him, machines are beeping and he does not like the atmosphere of a hospital. Shuffling closer he settles himself beside Shane, leaning in to the touches and feeling calmer at the fingers he knows so well running over him. Usually he doesn’t sit to be petted much, he’s a wolf not a pet or a dog, but right now he’s far too drugged up to care about how he looks.

Shane doesn’t mock him for acting like a pussy, his partner just smiles and continues keeping him calm, taking his mind off the muzzle and the pain. “You’re okay, you just got shot.” He explains and Daryl gives a huff of understanding, tail drifting into a lazy wag as he gets told of what happened. “Took a friggin bullet man, shot was so close it went right through your vest.”

He remembers the pain, he remembers the panic of checking on his pack but he can’t exactly remember all the details of it all. The face of the weapon wielding guy with the drugs was nothing but a blur to him, but he remembers the scent of drugs, anger and blood. The force of his arm snapping in his jaws and the relief of knowing his pack was safe because of him and him alone. He had done his job, he’d protected them and he recalls Rick doing his duty and cuffing the dickhead, Shane at his side and calming him, his packmates safe and happy. They were a team and they were safe because of him. He’d take all the pain in the world for that.

“Almost lost you today man.” Shane murmurs and Daryl hates the sadness in his voice, pawing at his hand, nuzzling to peek his tongue out enough to lick at his fingers in reassurance. He was fine, a little beat up, but alive and they all knew he would heal.

His partner chuckles, ruffling his ears a little and sitting a little straighter. Daryl reads body language better than anyone and he knows Shane feels more comfortable, confident in himself and not so worried. He’s pleased, he doesn’t like having his pack upset over him. “Rick’s just calling Lori.” Shane explains, leaning back in his chair. “She’s so freaked out man, almost came down here herself when she got told, it’s going to take a while for her to calm down.”

Daryl wags his tail at the thought, knowing that Shane spoke the truth. Rick’s wife was an honorary member of his pack, Rick’s mate, his love of his life and the mother of his pup. He’d met her a few times and though he could always smell her slight worry when he was shifted, he knew she liked him. Her pup did, always wanting to hang out with him whether he be human or feral form and in turn his mother trusted him. He could imagine Lori storming down here herself, snapping at everyone and worrying loudly.

Besides if there had been a gun there had been a chance that Rick or Shane could have been shot and though Daryl knows he worries about his packmates, so does she and it was his job to care for them after all. He knew she’d be there soon enough, coming to check on them all and probably bringing flowers and treats for him to make him get better sooner. Huffing in amusement at the thought he stretches as much as he can, feeling the twinge on his side from the bullet wound and yelp when it hurts.

Fingers keep him steady as he goes to nudge his nose against the bandages, keeping him back from doing so. “Hey don’t do that unless you want a cone on.” Shane warns and Daryl knows he would go through with the threat, if only to laugh at what he looked like. He’s got the sense to lay down and rest again.

“You were so lucky. They couldn’t operate to get the bullet because you were shifted and you were so out of it you couldn’t shift back to human form.” Shane continues, sitting in the horrible plastic chair beside him. “Your healing ability meant the wound kept trying to close around the bullet, causing more damage when it reopened itself over and over. They stabilised you but it wasn’t until Hershel got here that he could do something about it.”

Daryl doesn’t exactly like Hershel. Not that the old man was horrible or anything, he was always nice enough, but the only time Daryl ever saw him was when he was in need of a medical. He could use the station’s medic for most things, but when it came to wolf problems, they used the station’s vet instead. It makes sense that they’d call Hershel to treat him, he knew him well and they all trusted the vet to help him out, but still; vets made him wary. Hershel was there to inject him, to check him over and that wasn’t always the most pleasant thing in the world. Still he was alive and he owed the old vet for that.

“Wanna see it?” Shane asks and he’s sitting up, wagging his tail and intrigued.

Reaching into his pocket Shane produces a small plastic vial, rattling it and showing him the twisted piece of metal inside. Pawing at his hand he sniffs at it, able to smell gunpowder, metal, his own blood and it’s an interesting smell to be introduced to. “It’s so fucking tiny.” Shane laughs and he has to agree that it’s ridiculous that such a thing makes him feel like this. “You wouldn’t think it could cause so much damage would you? I knew you’d want to keep it so I made sure Hershel kept it aside for you. We can have it framed, put on the mantelpiece as a conversation point.”

He barks out a laugh at that, liking the thought of it and heck Shane knows him so well to keep it for him.

“It was bad man, real fucking bad. I almost knocked out one of the doctors, the station are putting in a complaint and running the whole discrimination route with it.” That’s not exactly fun, he doesn’t like the whole paperwork side of his job anyway and the thought of having to go through hearings and being the main focus of it all makes him whine, laying back down with a huff. “You got us all on your side bud.” Shane reassures, patting at his side gently.

The drugs take the edge off the pain but he knows this wasn’t going to be something he just bounces back from. Bullet wounds took time to heal, in multiple ways. “Hershel’s gonna be keeping an eye on you. We’re lucky they got him here so fast, soon as he was told he dropped everything to get here, cursing the doctors for not helping you. Never seen the old man move so quick.”

Daryl is grateful that he has people caring so much for him and he’ll have to make sure to thank Hershel properly when he can see straight. But that meant he’s going to be seeing the man soon enough anyway, kept under his care as he heals and checked on regularly. Maybe they weren’t best friends, but he had respect for the man, some humans wouldn’t even touch a were let alone treat one.

“You’re gonna have to stay shifted for the time being whilst your body recovers. Your healing ability will help, but the blood loss, the damage from healing, rehealing and being moved around means it’ll take longer than it should. You’ve got at least a few days of staying wolfy I’m afraid.” He doesn’t mind that at all, sometimes when the moon was full he’d stayed shifted anyway, enjoying the feel of the earth beneath his paws and being feral with it all.

But he knew it could sometimes be a problem for Shane. He’d signed up for him as a roommate and that meant most of the time he’d be a human and Shane knew how to deal with that. But as a wolf, sometimes instinct took over and he did things that he knew Shane found annoying and confusing. With the addition of medication to take and not being at full capacity he might be even more difficult to handle and he didn’t want to be a burden if he could help it.

Shane reaches out to pet him again, scratching behind his ears, running fingers down through his fur and settling his nerves when he speaks. “You know I don’t mind bud, I’ve been signed off to keep an eye on you and so has Rick. Shock you know, means we’ve got to take time for psychological reasons, got to recover and be prepared to go back on duty.” So it wasn’t even like Shane would get a break from him, he’d be there the whole time and have to deal with his more feral nature. That was a little worrying.

“You’ve got to have therapy as well.” That makes him whine, lowering his head and hating the thought of going through it all. “We’ve got to be tested on our training together, you need to be checked physically and mentally and pass all their tests, and there will be a look into it since it’s an officer involved shooting. Chief’s already reassured us we did everything by the book, he’s not worried and you shouldn’t be either, everyone just wants you to get better soon. Leon was almost in fucking tears.” Shane laughs and Daryl can imagine that the little idiot snivelling over him, probably failing miserably at being back up and fainting at the blood. Still, was nice to know he was going to be missed.

“It’s all a heap of bullshit I know man, but let’s focus on getting you better huh? Hershel says as soon as you can walk by yourself you can get out of here and I know you can’t wait to get that muzzle off and get home. You’re still owed a pizza if I remember correctly.” Daryl barks as well as he can at that, and though he’s not hungry at the moment he’s already trying to get to his feet, wanting to get down off the bed and prove that he was ready to go home.

Hands press him back down, and before he can protest the door to his room opens, Rick entering along with Hershel and he’s so glad to see his other packmates that he doesn’t resist Shane’s insistence that he stays down. Wagging his tail high he’s pleased when Rick immediately comes over to him, reaching out to let him press against him, feeling his heat and how alive and safe he was. His feral side needs the reassurance, he needs to know he’s safe and that his taking of a bullet wasn’t in vain.

Rick understands, perching on the edge of the bed so he doesn’t have to move so far and can place his head in his lap, closer to where his scent was the strongest and uncaring how he’s acting right now. “Hey Daryl, glad to see you’re awake.” He croons, Rick’s voice is soft, gentle and soothing to him as Hershel steps closer to check him over.

“Now let me take a look at you son.” The vet smiles easily, moving his hands over his body, feeling him all over and checking his eyes, his ears and taking his stats. It’s not the most comfortable of moments, but having Rick close and Shane’s hand pressed on his chest calms him down and stops him from cringing away. “Everything looks to be fine, your stitches are going to need to be kept clean and no licking at your wound. You do that and it’s the cone.” He’s threatened again and gives a huff as Hershel moves to remove the I.V. drip from his foreleg. “I’ve put you on a mix of painkillers and antibiotics for the next week and there will be checkups. Don’t be surprised if the drugs make you more feral, they can bring out more of your instincts as a side affect.”

He whines at that, burying himself in Rick’s leg at the thought. Things weren’t going to be easy that was for sure and a part of him thinks maybe getting shot was easier than the recovery was going to be. Still he hates the smell of this place, the muzzle makes him uneasy and he’d rather get out of here as soon as possible if he could. Creeping to the edge of the bed he lifts a paw to get down and finds Rick and Shane steadying him, practically lifting him off the bed and onto the floor.

“Easy there bud.”

“Don’t go too fast for yourself Daryl.”

“I know you want to go home but you need to take your time.”

Ignoring their worries he goes careful as he gets to his feet, feeling the ache and sting of his bullet wound and the way shifting pulls on his stitches. Shane kneels beside him, a reassuring presence, hands held out to catch him if he should stumble. Carefully he sets down paw after paw, shaking, stumbling a little but not falling, limping and finding it difficult to set down his back leg all the way. But it’s decent enough and he walks slowly around the edge of the room, looking up to Hershel with his head cocked and desperate to go home.

The old man sighs, still focussed on filling in things on his notes and Daryl barks a little, wanting an answer, wanting to go home even if he is still drowsy. This place wasn’t good for him, it stank, it sucked and he wants to go home to his bed in his room and be surrounded by familiar scents. Hershel sighs again, rubbing at his eyes and Daryl finds Rick and Shane watching him for an answer too. “You’re not going to listen even if I say no are you?”

Wagging his tail he can hear when Rick and Shane snort in unison, both of them knowing what he’s like and that if Hershel didn’t say yes he’d still probably sneak out anyway. Whining lightly he pads up to Hershel, nudging against the man’s leg, pawing at him, ignoring as he wobbles a little and wanting to get the answer he needs.

“Alright I give in, but you have to rest.” Hershel commands and Daryl’s not listening, he’s already heading for the door, scratching at it, rubbing at the muzzle and looking for his partners to hurry up. “Rick, Shane, make sure he rests and takes his medication.” Hershel tries again.

There’s an agreement of replies, he barks for them to hurry the hell up and Rick ends up taking the bag of medication from him before they’re allowed to finally leave. Daryl can’t walk very fast, there’s a limp in his back leg that slows him down, but Rick and Shane don’t point it out, instead they slow their own pace so he can keep up, not mentioning when he’s panting by the end of the hall.

Getting outside is the best feeling in the world and he takes a deep breath of air, glad to be free and away from the sterile cleanliness of the hospital. As soon as he’s outside the doors he paws for Shane to help him out, glad when his partner knows he wants the muzzle off and quickly unbuckles it, letting him stretch his jaw to the maximum and shake himself into feeling better. Shane runs his fingers through his fur between his ears, grinning to him and crouching beside him as Rick goes to get the car.

He wants to ask if Shane had been there the whole time, waiting for him to come around, worrying whilst he was in surgery and pacing the floor. Since speech isn’t something he’s capable of right now he instead leans into Shane’s side, letting him know that he’s pleased he’s there and that he couldn’t ask for a better handler. “I know bud.” Shane tells him, petting him gently and sometimes Daryl wonders if the other man can read his mind when he’s like this.

When the car pulls up Shane helps him into the back seat, climbing in after him and letting him set his head into his lap and finger combing his fur back. Usually he’d never give in to wanting to be petted or treated like a pet, but he’s still hurting, panting the ache away lightly and right now this is the only place he wants to be. Shane and Rick’s scents are around him, they’re talking of a night in with pizza and watching the game together, hanging out on the couch and Rick apologises in advance for Lori and Carl’s inevitable showing up.

Daryl doesn’t mind, closing his eyes and letting Shane pet him as they drive home. His pack are with him, safe and well, protected, alive and there’s no place he’d ever want to be except right here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I dunno, it seems this might become multiple chapter because the thought of it is too cute and I have too many ideas. Might become Daryl/Shane I dunno, and it'll probably just be a case of when the mood hits me I'll ad something, so it won't be as on schedule as other updates.


	3. Chapter 3

At first Daryl had never thought he’d enjoy living with a human, they were just too different he never thought it would work. But somehow over the year he and Shane had come to learn how to live with each other and now he can barely think of living anywhere else. Their apartment was a decent size enough for them, two bedrooms, large enough rooms that Daryl didn’t have to worry about getting in the way if he was in feral form and it worked for the two of them just fine. Sure the neighbours had been a bit unsure of having a wolf living in their building but apart from a few complaints about his howling when the mood took him, they got by just fine.

Still he was pleased they were on the ground floor and he didn’t have to suffer through the cramped space of the lift everyday.

Limping along besides Shane he leans on his partner as they make their way inside, panting at the exertion and hating how just walking from the car to their home was taking it out of him. For what it’s worth his partners don’t point it out and mock him, instead Rick holds the doors open for him and Shane doesn’t complain about his bulk making him lose balance every so often. As soon as their apartment door is open he’s inside, uncaring of the pain and going through his usual ritual, sniffing around every room to check that everything was in its place and nothing had been touched whilst he was away.

When they’d first begun living together Shane thought he was stupid for checking every time but he didn’t know how to explain that to him is just felt necessary. This was his territory and he’d be damned if someone was going to touch it when he wasn’t around, this was his and no one came in without his permission. Limping through he checks every room, rubbing his face on the corners of furniture units and making sure to double check his own room and Shane’s before returning to the living area.

“You know it’s getting pretty sad when the pizza place can recognise your number on sight Shane.” Rick chuckles, setting the medication out on the side and reading through the labels, checking the side affects and the dosage. Daryl whines at that, he doesn’t want to take any more medication, it made him feel dopey. “Even worse that they simply asked if we wanted the usual and offered congratulations of breaking a big case.”

Okay maybe he should choose something other than pizza next time, but pizza was his favourite and it always tasted so good. Still right now he wasn’t sure he’d be able to eat too much as it is, his side is burning a fire beneath the bandages and the urge to lick at it was creeping up on him again. But he knows the threats were real and Shane really would shove his head in a cone to stop him if he started. Grumbling to himself he sniffs at the floor next to the couch, squeezing himself beneath Rick’s legs and slumping to the floor, enjoying the safety of home around him.

“I’m not the pizza addict you need to be talking to.” Shane scoffs, coming over with a couple of beers for the two of them and Daryl watches mournfully as his usual third bottle is absent. Dammit, no drinking on medication and no drinking whilst feral. Barking a little he looks to Shane pointedly before nudging at the bottle in his hand. “Oh sorry bud, I’ll find your stuff.”

Daryl didn’t spend more than a few days a month feral at home, so in general he was able to use everything in their home as usual. But they still had supplies for times like this, or when the thought of being in his human skin felt unnatural and itched at his nerves or when he was too weak to shift back. It’s not a lot, but it makes things easier for him and he always hated having to ask Shane for help if he could help it.

At first he’d had a plain and simple metal bowl for his water, but a joke Christmas gift from Carl hadn’t gotten thrown away as he’d expected and Shane brings the hand painted ceramic bowl in for him, filled with cool water and a couple of ice cubes. It’s tacky, with a drawing of a brown dog on the rim alongside his name in bright yellow letters, but Carl had made it and though it was for a pet, he uses it anyway to humour everyone of course. Plus, maybe he liked the thought that had gone into it.

Shane sets it down beside the couch for him and Daryl knows he can’t be looking too healthy if Shane isn’t making him go to the easy to clean kitchen floor as usual. Getting to his feet is more difficult than before and he gives a noise of appreciation when Rick presses a hand to his side to steady him, letting him stumble to the bowl and lap at the cold water, cooling himself and getting rid of the horrible stale taste of anaesthetic from his mouth.

Just being home is nice and having the security of familiar scents and people soothes the want to check for danger and go around the perimeter of his territory. Moving back in front of the couch he wedges back into his spot, managing to get his large body beneath Rick and Shane’s legs, laying to half watch the game they’ve got on and half rest his still drowsy body. His side aches, no matter what position he’s in it annoys him and more than a couple of time Shane reaches down to swat at him when his back leg comes up to scratch at the itch automatically.

His pack are comfortable, he can smell that they’re both at ease above him, happy and safe, laughing over stupid moves in the game on the TV and letting him just take his time to get used to his new situation. They understand him so well, and though at first he’d been so wary of working with humans he doesn’t think he’d ever choose anyone else to be his partners. No one would ever understand him as well as Rick and Shane, they were his friends, his packmates and they were getting to speak wolf as well as he was getting to speak human. Placing a paw on top of Shane’s foot he lets out a huff of contentment and lets himself doze for a while.

A while later there’s a new scent around by the door and he perks up, ears pricked forwards, tail up high and Shane can feel his interest before there’s even a knock at the door. He knows that scent though so there’s no need for him to get up and from his reaction both Rick and Shane know who’s there before the door is even opened.

“Is he okay?”

“Can we see him?”

His tail wags happily as the familiar scent of family and Rick joins and mixes with his and Shane’s. Their extended pack coming in to their territory and wanting to see him. He’d known Lori would be worrying of course but he can smell Carl’s panic also and gives a slight bark to let them know he’s okay and fine for visitors.

Carl rushes over immediately, dropping to his knees on the floor beside him and wrapping him into a hug. Usually he hates having anyone touch his neck, it was the main reason he had a harness and not a collar like some tame pet, but with Carl it was different. The pup didn’t understand and to him and his silly human ways this was a comfort, so he allows it and licks behind the pup’s ear to help calm him down, ruffling his head fur a little and huffing when it sticks up.

Lori isn’t quite so forward, but she still kneels beside him, holding out her hand palm up, innocent, submissive and caring as always. He laps at her palm and allows her to stroke over his muzzle, her dainty fingers moving over his sides to linger over the bandage and she gives a small gasp of worry. It’s foolish for her to feel so worried for him, of course h would survive, he was strong, strong enough to protect her mate and Shane as well, strong enough to look after their whole pack and she needn’t worry about him.

Leaning out from Carl’s grip he laps at the kid’s face a little, reassuring him before moving to nuzzle at Lori’s neck. She never liked when he licked, but she needed the knowledge of his wellbeing right now and he’ll give it, lying his head into her lap briefly and checking on her scent. It’s different, her hormones have adjusted and changed, something new that he hadn’t smelt before but immediately he knows what it means and wags his tail harder, sitting up to bark at Rick in congratulations. A new pup for their pack, well at least he knew why Lori had been so snappy with Rick lately.

The humans don’t seem to understand him but that was fine, sometimes humans took a while to realise things, they weren’t as good at smelling as he was and in time they’d understand anyway. Lori moves to sit between Rick and Shane on the couch, Carl remaining on the floor with him and he rests his head in the pup’s lap as they talk, Carl calling him brave and strong and thanking him for protecting his dad. There’s no need, it was his duty to protect packmembers, but he licks the kid’s palm anyway to acknowledge him.

They are comfortable, a pack of five and one on the way, safe and deep within their scented territory, his to protect and to love no matter what. He can hear the sounds of Lori and Rick sharing a kiss and gives a huff of approval, letting the mates show their affection in such a delicate and human manner. Whenever he tried to lick anyone on the lips Shane would reprimand him, worrying about worms and canine diseases that could be passed on, yet he never seemed to mind when the women he brought home kissed him everywhere else. Maybe it was a stupid human thing.

Still he showed his affection in other ways, like pressing against Shane’s side as they walked, letting Rick and his family pet him even though he wasn’t a pet and taking a bullet for them. That was enough for the moment, and though he’s in pain he knows he’d still do anything to keep them safe.

So when there’s a knock at the door and an unfamiliar scent on the other side he’s on his feet, scrabbling to get to the door and barking, warning the intruder to back off and needing to show him who was in charge of this territory. His house, his pack, his rules. Shane follows him, hushing him and trying to get him to calm down but it’s too soon after the last time and though he stumbles, his back leg not giving all the steadiness he needs right now, he continues barking when the door is opened.

The new delivery boy looks terrified and that’s good, he didn’t need people he didn’t know thinking he was cute or tame. Baring his teeth he snarls loudly, making sure to show off all his fangs and take a step forward onto the front mat, glad when the boy steps back a little. Beside him Shane rolls his eyes with a small sigh, using his leg to nudge him back and showing no fear of him whatsoever. There’s no need, they were pack, Shane was his and this intruder needed to know that, especially when he trades pizza for cash before scampering away.

Giving a final huff of success he looks up for Shane’s approval, finding his handler looking at him with a resigned look on his face. “Really?” He asks and Daryl gives a wuff of uncaring, nudging at the pizza boxes before trotting back to his space before the couch. “They get through so many delivery boys because of you. I swear they keep Glenn because he’s the only one you like.”

Yes he does like Glenn, because the kid usually had some kind of treat in his pocket or added extra chicken to his order for him. Plus he smelt of strength and lightness, there was nothing dangerous about him, Glenn was no threat, Glenn was an acceptable visitor to their territory, but random little boys were not.

Shane just didn’t understand it and from Rick and Lori’s laughing neither did they, but that’s alright, that’s why they had him here to take care of things like that for them. Silly humans, how did they get by without him?

Plates are placed on the coffee table with the boxes full of greasy goodness and Carl helps by placing a couple of his meat covered pizza slices onto one for him, setting it on the floor beside him. Wagging his tail gratefully he licks at the sauce, nipping at the meal and aware he needs to go slow and not scarf it down as he usually did. Around him the pack eats, grateful for the meal he’d chosen being provided for them and he can hear the contented sounds of a happy packs for a while as they eat.

There’s a rattling behind him, someone’s going into the medication bag and he listens as there’s the pop of the container and some movement before Shane nudges at him. “Hey Daryl, try this piece of chicken for me?”

Did he think he was stupid? He doesn’t even have to lean forward to sniff the thing to know there was a tablet in there, wedged into the middle of the meat to try and trick him into eating it. Well he wasn’t some idiot dog, and he wasn’t taking anymore of that stuff, it made him feel drowsy enough as it was. Huffing a little he turns back to watch the game, aware that Carl was laughing next to him at his refusal.

“Daryl? Come on man eat the chicken.”

Not in a million years. Shane could beg and plead all he wanted, heck he could coat the thing in peanut butter and he still wouldn’t eat it. Besides he had all the chicken he wanted on his pizza, he didn’t need that specific piece to eat. Licking at his food he continues ignoring Shane, not even reacting to the nudges at his side or the tug on his ears. Carl giggles, even Lori gives a small laugh and then Rick is trying.

“Daryl you need to take it or Hershel is going be mad.” Well so what? He’d been shot, you didn’t get feeling much worse than that. The most Hershel could do is cone him and he’d find a way to get that off before long anyway. Snorting in refusal he shakes himself, wondering when the humans were going to give up. “You’re going to eat it one way or the other Daryl, either voluntarily or not.”

They couldn’t make him eat, not if he didn’t want to and besides why were they so focussed on ruining their nice evening together? The legs around him shift a little and he growls low in his throat when Shane’s brace either side of him, blocking him in when he sits up and keeping him in place. They know he’s not dangerous to them and though he growls his ears stay upright, it’s merely a noise of his dislike, not one of warning and even Carl can see that and doesn’t move.

“It’s okay Daryl, it’s never nice having to take tablets, but it’ll make you better faster.” Carl soothes him, reaching out to stroke over his chest, a calming pattern of fingers raking over his fur and despite it all he does relax into the pup’s motions.

Beside him he can feel Rick moving to help, and he tenses when hands so familiar move to keep him steady and pry apart his jaws. He whines in dislike but doesn’t snap down, even if his fangs were sharp enough to take off all of Rick’s fingers in one bite. There’s soothing words around him, Carl is still petting his chest and Shane drops the drugged chicken into his mouth before Rick holds his jaws closed, hands around them as he tries to shake him off. It’s not that he wants to disobey, he just doesn’t like medication, he doesn’t like not feeling completely in control and right now, the side affect of being more feral wasn’t exactly one he wanted.

Fingers move to massage his throat and against his wishes he’s swallowing, The chicken gone with the medication and leaving him suddenly free from everyone’s grasp as they let him loose. Huffing loudly he ignores their praise, uncaring if Carl thought he was brave and Lori was calling him silly for making such a big deal out of nothing. She didn’t know anything, she’d never had to deal with him when he was feral for days and the moon made his blood sing and his mind was more base and instinctive.

Still he remains close enough to keep an eye on them, even if he does turn his back and ignore their conversation, letting them take his silent treatment as punishment. Silly humans. His side aches something awful, twinging as he moves his back legs and he knows he’s going to be damned restricted in his movements for a while, unable to jump and be as active as he usually is. Sure the actual wound would be gone in a few days, his naturally superior healing knitting together muscle and skin easily enough, but the ache and the movement took a while, especially if he’d reopened the wound multiple times.

He was going to be stuck as a wolf for at least a week and though right now he felt fine he knew the longer he spent in feral form the more the urges came upon him and he couldn’t fight them. But Shane had said it was okay, so maybe it would all work out fine and he wouldn’t do anything stupid or embarrassing whilst on medication. It would all be fine surely, besides they were pack and Shane had dealt with him being feral before, so of course it would all be fine.

Besides pack looked after pack and forgave pack no matter what.


	4. Chapter 4

It doesn’t take long for the medication to start taking affect and though it stops his wound from being so painful and helps make him more mobile, it means by the time the Grimes family are leaving he’s in a different mindset. He can feel it in his bones, it’s like being high on the moonbeams and overwhelmed by his feral side. Shane can see it in his eyes and so can Rick, and they know when he is lost to himself. His eyes are usually a mix of green and amber in colour but when he’s feeling feral like this there are bright flecks of gold in the irises, burning with fire and a wildness he can’t control.

His packmates go to say farewell to him, Carl yet again hugging him around his neck, Lori rubbing behind his ears and he jumps up on his hind legs to lick at Rick’s cheek. The Grimes family laugh as he follows them out, escorting them to their car, checking that they are safe and scanning the area for danger the entire time. It’s late, the world is getting dark and he won’t have them get dragged down by something from the shadows. It was his duty and his honour to protect the pack.

Shane bids them farewell and a safe drive, keeping an eye on him as he roams about the neighbourhood, trotting down the street, scenting the place, checking on everything he can and letting his ears prick up at any sound. The car leaves and he watches until it’s out of sight, tail high and certain of the pack’s safety before he continues checking the area.

Their street is nice enough, a few more apartment blocks down the way, some nice houses with flowers in the yard and trees lining the street. He’s not a pet that needs to be walked every day, but he enjoyed the outdoors all the same and when he’s feeling like this he felt the need to display his territory more so than ever. Usually he’s able to resist the base desire, but right now he’s scenting everything in a more direct manner, forgoing the rubbing of his cheeks over everything and instead cocking his leg to pee on every tree, thoroughly scenting them all until he’s satisfied he’s made his mark.

He’s a few houses down the street when Shane calls for him, whistling for him to return and it’s only his training that has him heading back, used to returning to his handler when called. His feral side wants to explore, wants to roam the city and scent further, widen his territory and give his pack a larger area of safety. But it’s late, Shane looks exhausted and yet again he wonders exactly how long the other man had been at his side when he’d been in the hospital.

“I’ll leave the back door open for you tonight.” Shane nods to him, ushering him back inside their house and bolting the door behind himself. His partner understands him, he knows what he needs and when Shane kneels down to check him over he knows the human can see the spark in his eyes. “How’re you feeling bud?”

Fingers run over his sides, Shane is beside him and checking him over, hands running over his fur, feeling his ribs and body, lifting each leg in turn to test them. He whines a little when his back leg is lifted but Shane hushes him, setting it back down before moving to his wound, peeling back the bandage and revealing the shaven area. Daryl arches back to nose at it, hating the feeling of bare flesh against his nose and the smell of hospital still on him.

A tap to his nose has him snorting, Shane letting him know to back off and not nip at it no matter how much it itches. “I know bud, but it’ll be good as new soon enough.” His partner soothes him, smearing antiseptic cream on the stitches before recovering it, making sure to pin the bandages tight so he couldn’t get them loose. Damn Shane knew him too well.

As soon as he’s released he’s moving again, padding around their apartment and letting Shane do as he wishes. He’s too on edge to sit still and too feral to help tidy up after everyone else anyway so what use would it be to have him in the way? Shane lets him wander, hunting out some of his more wolf friendly items and not even scoffing when he drags out a rope toy he’d had hidden beneath the television unit.

Dropping it at Shane’s feet he moves to sit behind him, pressed against the back of his legs as Shane does the dishes, acting like the perfect human maid. He’s as patient as he can be when he wants to hunt and kill something but after a few minutes he’s whining, pawing at the back of Shane’s legs until he gets a response. “You’ve got to get some sleep tonight you know?”

Shane makes no move to entertain him, focussed on doing boring chores and that’s not going to fly. Packs needed to bond together, they needed to play together and spend time enjoying each other and Shane had been so worried all day. Moving to grab at Shane’s pant leg between his teeth he stands up, backing away from the stupid dishes and tugging Shane’s leg with him, growling playfully and hoping he’ll hurry up and get the hint.

“It’ll help you heal faster if you get some rest.” Shane sighs and he doesn’t listen, tugging still and wagging his tail when his human dries his hands, bending down to grab the rope toy from the ground. Barking loudly he backs up, giving Shane space to play and pricking his ears forwards. His human shakes his head at him but there’s a smile on his face, Daryl can smell that he’s happy, probably glad that he’s back on his feet and not pathetically lying about on the floor like earlier. He’s glad that Shane is happy, it’s his pleasure to make his pack happy.

He doesn’t know why Shane acts as if he doesn’t want to join in, but his handler tosses the toy into the air, letting him scrabble against the floor and dive at it, grabbing it between his jaws and shaking it until he’s certain it’s dead. Shane laughs as he bounds back over, jumping up to paw at his chest, dangling the toy in his face as he’s petted for doing a good job. It’s almost like working, him finding and Shane assisting him, congratulating him on doing brilliant and ruffling his fur.

The game goes on for a while, him running about the apartment, skidding on the kitchen floor, diving under the furniture to get it and rolling around on the carpet until Shane is laughing. It’s not often he’s like this, so open with his feral side, but it’s like the medication has made him uncaring about what he looks like and he doesn’t even mind when Shane sees him acting like this. They play until he’s panting, his side is aching at the exertion and he’s slumped on the floor with his head on Shane’s feet, tongue lolling out as he gasping for air.

“Christ man you’re off your face.” Shane chuckles, reaching down to stroke at his chest, and immediately he’s rolling over onto his back for Shane to rub at his tummy, making him whine in pleasure at the feeling. Pack didn’t mind about showing affection with each other and Shane was by far his closest pack member, the one who he trusted most of all, the one who he knew the best and knew would have his back. The man had been there for him when he’d gotten shot, kept him calm and safe, protected him when he was down, and here he was still caring for him as much as he could. “You may be wide awake but some of us need some sleep.”

Whining loudly he licks at Shane’s ankle, upside down on the floor and pawing at his leg to try and convince him to stay just a little longer. Right now he feels so alive, his blood rushing through him and leaving him bright and unable to rest. He doesn’t want Shane to sleep, he doesn’t want to sleep himself, he wants to run, to howl, to play and have Shane with him all the way.

“Seriously I’m beat Daryl.” Shane replies, standing from his seat, giving the rope toy one final kick across the room before padding down the hall. Daryl’s up and after the toy in a minute, grabbing it, shaking it and turning to give it back to Shane when he hears the click of the other man’s bedroom door closing. Scratching at the door he drops the toy before it, whining and digging his claws in to get a response.

There’s no answer but he can hear Shane moving around in there, shuffling for clothing, he can hear when the bed creaks beneath his weight and his partner gives a loud yawn. Whimpering a little he sits beside the door, glaring at the damned doorknob that Shane had that he couldn’t use. His own bedroom door had been modified after a few weeks of him moving in, the handle replaced with a length of rope knotted for him to use no matter what form he was shifted into. It was the little things that helped and right now he wished Shane wasn’t so hung up on personal space and having his own room.

Scratching a little harder he leans up to mouth at the handle, trying to grip it and find some way of opening it, annoyed when his teeth can’t get any purchase on the shiny metal. “Goodnight Daryl!” Shane calls through the wood and he backs away, able to hear the frustration in his voice and whining a little at being the one who caused it.

Tail between his legs he pads back into the living room and out of the back door, onto the tiny yard they had, a mix of patio and patchy grass with a washing line across it. It’s barely anything, but it’s his and right now he needs the world to know that and maybe it would make Shane feel better to know he had a packmate willing to defend their territory.

Sniffing around the area he is careful to spread his scent evenly, moving around the fencing on the perimeter and making his presence known. That shitty little corgi that lives next door has got nothing on him, he’s no threat but still Daryl makes sure to cover his scent with his own, cocking his leg to spread the scent further. It’s not very dignified but this wasn’t about what he looked like, it was about showing who was boss and letting the world know it was him; Daryl Dixon. The grass feels good beneath his paws, digging in-between his toes and making him want to run even if there was no room for it. He wants to be free, but he’ll take what he’s got and right now he’s got a territory worth fighting more and a pack he’d die for.

It’s enough and he spends the night working out the drugs from his system, playing on instinct and going with what feels right. The world is dark around him but he can see perfectly, eyes bright in the night as he digs up the garden, burying his face in the dirt, chewing on the grass and enjoying the scent of earth and freedom and life. Pacing back inside he is uncaring of the mud he tracks inside the apartment, moving to his own room and nudging the door open with a headbutt.

If anyone were ever unsure of his being a werewolf, all they had to do was look at his room. His bed is low to the ground, mattress, pillows and sheets tossed onto it, a mess but a comfortable mess that is scented completely. No matter what form he’s in it’s comfortable, nothing more than a dresser of his human clothing and one lone drawer of anything he has for his feral days. There are no personal touches, no need for a clock when he can feel where the moon is every second, no posters or books, no need for many of the other things humans deem necessary.

Climbing onto his bed he grabs up his pillow between his teeth, digging them in and feeling the fabric groan to give way beneath the sharpness. Circling his usual spot he nuzzles at the covers, padding them out to be comfortable before dropping his pillow and himself into place.

He remembers when he’d first come to live here after his sentence had been passed. Everything had been so new and different for him and it had taken a long time for him to settle into learning how to live with humans. A lifetime of being around his own kind left him unsure and completely lost as to how to live and communicate properly with humans and it had taken a long time to get to the level he was at now.

Sure there were still moments he made mistakes but they weren’t as bad as when he’d first arrived. He’d felt so alone in himself as he’d tried to learn, getting used to staying shifted in human form and trying to obey all these unwritten rules that everyone else seemed to have learned at birth was hard, but he’d tried his best. At the station was the worst, where he’d been kicked to the bottom of the rankings, picked on by the humans and teased mercilessly. Cans of dog food had ended up in his locker, there had been a flea collar tossed in his direction and various names shouted at him whenever he’d been at the station. The teasing he could deal with but it was the fact that he couldn’t defend himself in the way he was used to that was the problem.

Daryl had been used to snarling, snapping, biting and roughhousing his way to the top of the pack, defeating those that challenged him and showing he was above them. But here that was frowned upon, even seen as illegal in some respects and he really hadn’t wanted to go to the pound for it. So he’d kept his head low, growled to himself quietly and taken out his frustrations later when he’d managed to get some time away from the town in the fields surrounding it. It had been so hard to get used to it, to the new sights and smells, the people, the places and the rules he’d never even heard of.

Living with a human had made it even more difficult, there wasn’t even a space he could have to himself to get used to it all, it had felt as if he was under surveillance the entire time. Shane hadn’t exactly been impressed with the living situation either, sure he’d signed up and done the training for the Lycan Unit, but work and his home life was meant to be kept separate and here they were constantly around each other. It had been so difficult, trying and almost painful at times and Daryl had never thought he’d get along with the human as well as he did now.

One night he’d tried to run away, wanting to take his chances out there in the wild being hunted as a threat to humans, but Shane had caught him, asking where he was going and looking pissed enough to chain him up if he’d even tried it. He remembers snarling, snapping at the human, so frustrated to the point where he’d let it all loose, shifting into feral form and baring his teeth since he’d been so fucking angry. Then Shane had done something he’d not been expecting; he’d gotten to his knees, knelt beside him and reached out a hand, open palmed and submissive with a small understanding smile. It had been the start of their working together as a team both at home and at work.

There had been a lot of lessons for him to learn: peeing was to be done in the toilet and not outside, humans didn’t sniff each other in greeting, tummy rubs were to be shared in the privacy of their own home and eating was to be done at a table not on the floor. It had taken a lot of time, a lot of patience, fights, arguments, but now finally he figured he’d gotten most of it down. Shane had been there every step of the way, coaxing him through the more difficult things he’d had to learn and reprimanding him gently when he’d made a mistake. It had worked out and now here they were, two partners in the same pack, practically family and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Yawning to himself he curls up tighter on his bed, nipping at his shoulder, cleaning himself for a while as he remembers all the good and the bad times they’ve been through together. Shane had turned his own life upside down to let him in, allowing him into his home, helping teach him how to act more human and in turn learnt to speak wolf better himself. They were a great team, a perfect partnership and a duo of packmates made for each other. Tucking his nose beneath his tail he begins to drift off, dreaming of he and Shane chasing rabbits through the fields together, sharing the thrill of the chase, the excitement of the kill and working in tandem to bring it down.


	5. Chapter 5

_Prey. Hunt. Weapon. Chase. Disarm. Neutralise._

_He knows the smell of prey, the scent of human fear, the stench of discharged gunpowder in the air, everything mixes together and he can practically taste it. Drool falls from his jaws, staining the pavement in the Georgia heat, his teeth are bared, hackles raised and beside him his packmates are ready to take down the threat as a team. Daryl is ready, he knows the way this is going to go down and he’s not going to stop, not until his pack are safe and the gun is away from the attacker’s hands._

_Prey is frightened, almost in tears as he snarls, claws scrabbling against the ground, heart thumping, blood pulsing, instinct rising, wolf hungry. He wants to take him down, he wants to taste his flesh break beneath his fangs and feel the raw power of taking down someone weaker than he is and feeling the arch of success throughout his body. Fingers release him, Shane calls for him to attack and he’s there, darting forwards, air in his face, anger in his heart and wolf through and through._

_His fangs sink in, he drags down the body, feels the weight of a human slump down, gunpowder stronger, snap in the air and blood staining him, his mouth, the world around him. Something is wrong, human in his mouth is dust, prey is down, prey is gone, he is alone and standing, but blood still stains the air. There’s no call for release, no handler to calm him, no pack to soothe him and it’s cold here._

_Turning there’s blood, the ground is red and the scent is wrong, scent is well known, scent is pack, pack is hurt, pack’s blood, pack is hurt. Howling loudly he’s hunting not for prey but for pack and it’s frantic, it’s hard, it’s fast and he’s scared, wolf and human inside of him frightened and panicked, please hunt, please find. Quick._

_Blood tangs, pack gasps and Shane is down. Pack is hurt, pack is bleeding, Shane is gasping, holding his side and there’s so much blood its red and wet and there’s too much. He can smell it, taste it as if he’d ripped it from his packmate himself and it burns at his jaws, stains his fangs and he’s whining, whimpering like a lost pup and so very frightened and cold as Shane falls and goes down down down with blood seeping, pack hurt, pack down, Shane shot. Shane dying._

Barking loudly Daryl is up, off the bed, bolting, running, blood pumping and fear making him charge to Shane’s bedroom in a matter of seconds. He calls, he howls, he claws at the wood blocking his way, bites at the handle and it’s not enough, he’s not fast enough, he’s going to lose pack and he can’t let it happen again. Frantically he backs up, snarling at the door, darting forwards, lowering his head and barrelling himself at it, shoulders braced, using all of his weight and uncaring of the rest of the world as the catch gives and the door swings open.

“Daryl? What in the hell-“

Shane grunts as he jumps onto the bed, his whole weight making the thing creak as he slams into his packmate, claws catching on the sheets as he paws them aside, frantic and scared with ears pinned back and tail between his legs. Nose smells, tongue licks and paws press over skin and clothing, moving over every inch, finding no scent of blood or death or hurt. He checks, he rechecks and then he checks once more, uncaring of the whines issuing forth from his throat or the fingers catching in his fur. Shane, pack, mate safe.

There’s no wound, there’s no blood, no bullet, no prey, no enemy, no danger, no worry.

Snarling a little he snatches at Shane’s sleep shirt with his teeth, tugging on it, yanking it up so he can double check beneath it, not wanting his packmate to hide anything from him when he’s so worried like this. Paws pin him down, he drags his tongue over Shane’s side and ribs, there’s no damage, no wound and no blood like he’d seen and the fluster of panic dies down a little. Still he’s on edge, wide-awake and not willing to let his guard down now when if he let it slip something bad could happen.

Fingers tugs back down the shirt, lifting his head free from its confines and Shane is trying to calm him, palms upon his side, stroking through his fur and he huffs a little at that. Pack looked after pack and just as it was his duty to protect Shane it was Shane’s duty to calm him down.

“Daryl, Daryl what’s wrong?” Shane asks again, catching his attention properly from glaring around the shadows of the room and he can’t help himself. Standing over his packmate he takes up the position of dominance, pinning his mate belly up beneath him, so human, so weak and fragile with no teeth or claws to protect himself.

Whining lightly he bends down to nuzzle at him, rubbing their faces together, scenting his mate carefully, making sure to huff and coat him properly. He was not going to fail him, the world was going to know who was his protector and Daryl was not going to let his human get hurt because of his negligence. Letting out a huff in the back of his throat he begins cleaning Shane, licking over his neck in long streaks, moving to catch behind his ears and get his head fur from his face, before nuzzling and licking at his cheeks.

Beneath him Shane is tense, clearly frightened, most likely aware that there had been a danger and he was being protected of it. Fingers comb through his fur, moving from his neck to his chest, long strokes over his ribcage and feeling the heavy beat of his heartbeat. Good mate. Nipping at his shoulder a little he nudges at him, getting the human to lie back down fully, to relax and submit, to give all his stress up to him and allow Daryl to take on the task of watching over him.

Still Shane continues petting him, fingers burying into the short fur behind his ears, rubbing there a little until he’s wagging his tail, panting a little and more relaxed. They’re good for each other like this, strong but confident, bringing each other the comfort they needed when things got hard and Daryl is so proud of his human for speaking almost fluent wolf. The sheets are still bunched around them but Shane has no need of such flimsy protection when he had him instead.

Slumping down he settles himself on his mate’s chest, nose buried in his oh so human smelling neck and licking over his pulse point, feeling the steady beat of his heart and able to feel every breath he takes beneath his paws. Shane is confused, he can smell it in the air but it’s a better scent than blood so he’ll take it. The fingers continue combing over his head, his neck, his spine and his tail flicks lazily in time with the comfort, enjoying the calmness of it all and the telltale scent of Shane being alive and well around him.

“This is a side affect of the medication right?” Shane asks him through the darkness and Daryl can see perfectly well when he sighs to the ceiling, adjusting to the heavy weight of his form on top of himself but not pulling away. Wuffling a little he nuzzles closer, curling tighter around him, feet finding the crease between Shane’s legs to tuck in there, tail wagging over him. “Because you’ve never been like this before.”

Mate was fine, Shane was talking and trying to make a joke, no worry in his voice, no pain in the air and no blood around him. Making and murmur of delight he continues lapping at his neck, cleaning at him, soothing him and able to taste everything that was pure Shane on his tongue. His human sighs, shifts a little beneath him but doesn’t try to get free. An arm wraps about him loosely as the other rests on his head, holding him close, using his heat for the night and letting their heartbeats thud in time as Shane gives up on asking questions and slowly falls back to sleep.

Daryl doesn’t allow himself to fall back asleep, he has a far more important duty to attend to and he refused to let his guard down at all. The rest of the night he counts the time by feeling the motion of the moon across the sky, feeling the tug of it in his veins and sensing the second the sun creeps up over the horizon. Shane stays safe beneath him, snoring a little, his skin untainted by blood or wounds, fingers wound into his fur and a damp patch on his neck from Daryl’s ministrations.

He looks so innocent as he sleeps, so weak and delicately human. It’s a dangerous form to bed and Daryl remembers the first few weeks he’d had to remain shifted in human form at work. It had been difficult, itched at his very core and he’d felt so vulnerable the entire time. There were no teeth sharp enough to rip out a throat, only a couple of fangs carried through to human form but they weren’t enough for him to do real damage. His nails were nothing like claws, his body weight didn’t have the same compact bulk as his feral form and the worst part was that he was alone.

Werewolves were not made to be alone. His kind were made for packs, for connections and family, for links and mates to join them together and make them stronger. He’d never been good at being on his own and even the tug of the moon in his blood hadn’t helped him feel connected to the world. He remembers sitting and howling for Merle, hoping for a reply and getting nothing, his brother too far away to respond. The world had felt bigger, scarier and full of too many humans and no other werewolves.

Now though things were different. He wasn’t so alone anymore, he had Rick and family and Shane. He had pack and a mate and a home and a family. His territory was well marked and maintained, his family protected from danger and there hadn’t even been any kind of challenge to his place in this world. Despite all his worries and fears when he’d first come to live with the humans he’d found a pack of his own and he’d be damned if anyone was going to take that away from him.

Nosing at Shane’s hair he huffs a little, tugging on it to get it away from his face and licking it back. Shane groans a little in his sleep as he cleans him once more, moving to his neck, then his face. Pressing a little closer the fingers clutch at him, keeping him close as he licks at him, feeling the roughness of Shane’s stubble over his tongue and whining happily at the taste of stale toothpaste on Shane’s lips. A hand swats him away and he nudges it back, pawing at Shane’s chest and pinning him a little more until he can finish his task.

Shane was always so against him licking at everyone, complaining of worms and diseases, as if he had any to give out. Humans were so bad at smelling anything they couldn’t even tell that he was clean of any problems, so he didn’t see the big deal. Besides, humans always shared their mouths with each other, he’d even caught Shane licking at some girl before, and it wasn’t even on the mouth. Maybe his human was just shy of being on the receiving end?

Growling a little he nips at the hand trying to shoo him away again, pleased when Shane sighs in his sleep and settles back down again. Daryl continues grooming him, using slow licks to cover the maximum amount of skin and tiny ones to get his hair to calm down from being a sleep mussed mess. It takes time and by the time he’s content that he’s done a good job the sun is up, the birds are chirping and he’s yawning a little. He could sleep later, daylight meant less danger and besides Shane wouldn’t be going to work without him since they’d been signed off together.

Carefully he climbs off the bed, stretching as he gets to the floor and growling a little when his wound twinges at the pull on it. His healing ability may be good, but a bullet wound was still a tough one to get over. Trotting about their home he takes the time to check outside, rescenting the place over and snarling when the yippy little corgi from next door barks at him through the fence. He didn’t have time for idiots today so he simply gives a loud snarl and moves back inside to check over things.

The pizza from the garbage tastes just as good now as it did last night, if a little cold. Guzzling it down he moves about the apartment, picking up the rope toy and gnawing on it a little as he brushes over the corners of furniture, rubbing his cheeks over them all the scent the place one last time. It’s been a rough night but they’d gotten through it, he’d been there for Shane and kept him safe through it all when he’d been unconscious, letting him sleep in peace despite everything and he knew his mate would be grateful for it when he woke up.

He’s settled on the couch when the alarm finally goes off, Daryl hearing it easily since Shane’s bedroom door had been left open after his little attack earlier. There’s a groan, a sigh and he’s pleased when he hears Shane give a loud yawn in protest at being awake, the bedsprings creaking when he moves his weight to get up and finally shuffles into the living area.

Immediately he’s up, huffing in greeting, enjoying the sight of his human so ruffled and half asleep, winding about his legs and enjoying when Shane stumbles a little against him. He smells wonderful, of Shane and Daryl and a mix of their scents that just spoke one word to the world around them. His.

Shane rubs at his eyes, his hair in complete disarray as he grumbles to himself, trying to wake up and failing miserably. Daryl rubs against his legs, enjoying the feeling of Shane’s sparse smattering of fur against his own. “You know if you’ve broken the door you’re paying for it right?” Shane asks him and he barks happily, willing to take the hit to his wages since it had meant Shane was safe.

Weaving around him Daryl nudges between his legs from behind, enjoying sharing the same space as his human and knowing that Shane was really too sleepy to protest right now. It means he can take the moment to enjoy this, getting to be in the place where Shane’s scent was the strongest and just lose himself in the pure thick smell of Shane and mate that surrounded him. For him it’s sheer perfection.

“God man you got me good last night.” Shane grumbles, wiping at his neck, his face and soon enough just removing his sleep shirt entirely to wipe at where Daryl had cleaned him. Whining a little he’s not entirely pleased at his hard work being rubbed at, but Shane simply glances down to glare at him before continuing. “I know the drugs are making you like this, but do you think we could tone down the licking a little bit?”

Growling he barks up at Shane, wanting to point out that humans shared their mouths with each other all the time and other parts too and they never seemed to think it was disgusting. What was so different about him sharing his affection with his packmate? Rick never minded and neither did Carl, Shane should feel honoured that he was Daryl’s favourite to lick at. Pawing at the ground he snorts in displeasure at the thought, and he knows Shane can read him perfectly well.

“Just a little then? I mean we have a shower, I don’t need a tongue bath from you whilst I sleep.” Shane points out, stepping off from over the top of him and heading towards the bathroom, Daryl in tow and trotting after him. “Not that I don’t appreciate the sentiment behind it man, because I know that stuff means a lot to you and everything, but just tone it down yeah? Don’t need to wake up covered in slobber.”

Daryl huffs a little, tail still high and wagging in the air as Shane starts the shower up and he trots over to lap up a few mouthfuls of it as his human brushes his teeth. His claws click on the tiled floor as he grabs a clean towel from the handrail for Shane, setting it on the lid of the toilet for him gently for when he was done. Sometimes it’s the little things mates do for each other that show they care.

“I mean how would you like it if I spent all night licking at your face?” Shane mumbles around the toothbrush, foam covering his lips and smelling of mint and cleanliness. Daryl’s tail wags harder, he jumps up to rest his paws on the sink and tries to lick at the foam dripping down Shane’s chin. “Actually don’t answer that.” His human sighs, pushing him away as he rinses out his mouth.

He’d like it very much if Shane spent the night licking at his face, whether he was in either form to be honest. Shane smelt nice, he fed him, he helped him do human things he didn’t understand and he watched out for him when he was wolf too. Shane was the perfect person to lick at his face if he wanted to. Besides, mates shared things like that together, he’d even seen human mates kiss and Rick and Lori seemed to like it when they did it. Maybe they could even do that?

Sitting on the cold floor he begins washing himself, licking at the fur of his front paws and digging in his teeth when something itches at his skin. “Ahem.” Shane coughs from above him and he looks up with a tilt of his head, tail wagging at the sight of his human dressed in only his boxers and almost rid entirely of the unnecessary human addiction to clothing. “Get out.”

Whining a little he doesn’t like the thought of being separated from Shane when his human was most vulnerable, naked and wet, with no weapons or clothing covering him from an attack. But he slinks out all the same, never one to take away Shane’s privacy when the human had already given so much of it up for him to live there. Still, it feels like the bathroom door locks just a little too loudly in his ears and he doesn’t move back to the living room. Instead he settles at the base of the door, stretched out on the carpet and listening to the sounds of his human clean himself, always on alert for danger of any kind.


	6. Chapter 6

Shane takes forever in the shower. He didn’t understand it, it wasn’t like humans had a lot of hair and even if it felt nice to get wet sometimes and go for a swim it’s not like showering is the same thing. It was ridiculous and Daryl makes sure to scratch at the door and bark a little to let Shane know he’s taking far too long in there. He can hear him drying off, dragging on fresh underwear and a pair of pants for the day, and then there’s the sound of the tap running and the bathroom cabinet opening and Daryl knows he’s going to have to wait a bit longer.

If there was one human habit that he really did not understand in the slightest it was shaving.

Being a werewolf meant he never grew a lot of hair on his chin when in human form, it seemed a lot of a werewolves’ hair growth went into their more feral form and left him with a rather sparse smattering of stubble and nothing more. Shane had tried to convince him once, saying it felt good to be clean shaven, but he can’t help but snarl at the idea of having a blade so near his throat. Humans took far too much pride in their fur, the women styling it and some of the men, and all this shaving whether it be on their face, beneath their arms or on their legs. Ridiculous, he much preferred to just wear his fur however it settled on him at the time.

Though he allowed Shane to run a brush through his human head fur once in a while if it was sticking up too badly for work. Not that he ever enjoyed it, he just knew Shane liked to look professional in the workplace for whatever stupid reason. Really he figured they were lucky enough he relented to wearing his vest and badge.

Licking at his paws he tries to be as patient as possible, quelling down the worry when he catches the taint of Shane’s blood in the air. Whining loudly he paws at the door and receives a sigh from within the bathroom. “Told you before bud, I always catch myself when shaving. It’s just a scratch.” Shane calls to him, used to having to explain himself and really Daryl enjoys that they’ve gotten close enough for Shane to not even have to question the noises he makes when feral.

It’s almost as if when Shane had been teaching him how to live with a human, he’d been giving a few lessons himself and now Shane was almost completely fluent in wolf. It wasn’t like he’d been the perfect student though, constantly questioning the simplest things like scenting and howling, but they’d gotten past that point and now he and Shane were closer than ever. His tail wags at the thought of it.

The bathroom door opens with a billow of steam seeping out, Shane leaving the room and stepping over him in a familiar rhythm, one learned between them both as time had gone on. Shane doesn’t even question him now, nor does he stumble and trip over his large body, now he just steps over without glancing down like it’s normal. Their routine in the mornings is similar no matter what form he’s shifted into, human or wolf he’s the same person and they’ve got a system going between them.

Shane heads to the kitchen, fully awake from his shower and smelling of all those gels and body washes Lori keeps buying them and insisting they need. Daryl’s not too keen on the scents and makes sure to brush up against Shane’s legs and rub his cheek over the back of his knees as his handler starts making breakfast for them both. Breakfast is a meal he’s become accustomed to since he’s been living with humans, back when it was he and Merle in the wild hunts only used to be successful every couple of days and they’d simply gorge themselves in one sitting.

Now he got the pleasure of food every single day and it was something he was definitely getting used to. He knows not to get in the way when Shane was cooking, too many trips, spills and the lessons learnt about the stove being hot meant he knew that was a rule that didn’t need to be broken. Sitting by the cabinets he watches and waits patiently, licking his lips as the eggs and bacon hit the frying pan and Shane slides some bread into the toaster. Daryl is not so great a cook, Shane had learnt the hard way that he was better off making sandwiches and cereal by himself than trying to actually use the oven for anything. So this was Shane’s job and Daryl made sure to lick at his fingers whenever he walks past to show him that he appreciates it.

Usually he seats himself on the countertop or at the table, trying to act restrained and responsible as he waits for his meal, but right now in his more feral form he can’t stop his tail from wagging and the want to jump up as soon as the meal is plated. “Don’t even think it.” Shane reprimands him, no real venom in his voice, but a definite warning for him to behave. It’s difficult but he does so, proud of his packmate for providing food for him yet again.

Sure it wasn’t quite a hunt, but it took effort and skill that Daryl didn’t possess, so Shane deserved recognition for his efforts.

Shane sits at the table, ever the decent human being even if he’s not wearing a shirt and Daryl places himself beside him on the floor, sitting up straight and waiting patiently for his turn. It was a simple thing, but he remembers all the hours that Shane had painstakingly sat with him and tried to explain about manners and what they meant to humans. It meant not pointing out he could smell that Leon was a virgin, it meant not pushing in to get what he wanted when there was a queue and it definitely meant waiting for his turn even if he wanted to snap and take something. So he sits, he waits and he lets his mate take his bite first before pawing at his leg.

“Alright so what have you got planned for the day then?” Shane asks him, holding out Daryl’s own forkful of bacon and smiling as he scarf’s it down quickly. Manners or not, he was still hungry. Daryl huffs a little as the flavour of cooked meat hits his tongue and though he’d been sceptical at first now he’s used to not eating everything completely raw. “I mean you’re gonna be here on your own for a couple of hours, and it’s not like you can run about much at the moment.”

Whining loudly he lays his head on Shane’s lap, ears pricked upright and waiting for an explanation. He doesn’t want Shane to go anywhere, why would Shane want to go out without him? Whimpering a little his tail tucks between his legs, he paws at Shane’s feet and even the next forkful of bacon isn’t enough to perk him up. “Ain’t gonna be for long bud, just gotta head to work and make a statement. Didn’t want to leave you yesterday but boss man says I gotta go in and do it. So does Rick so he can’t come over to keep you company.”

Daryl doesn’t want to be alone, he doesn’t want Shane to go out and be somewhere he can’t see or smell. Hunching closer he lifts a paw to get into his lap, wriggling as close as he can and not caring that Shane was still trying to eat around him. “It’s only for a few hours I swear.” A few hours too long. He wants to tell him not to go, he wants to sit on him and force him to stay, he wants him somewhere he can keep him safe and not lose him. “And you know I’ll be alright at the station.”

No he doesn’t. They all had guns there and he couldn’t trust Leon with clearing the floor of needles let alone protecting Shane from anything dangerous. Shane scratches behind his ears, finishes his meal and Daryl even takes his medication without so much as a whine to try and get him to stay. His stomach is full of worry, even the eggs, toast and bacon isn’t enough to get him feeling settled and happy and usually food was the easiest way to get his tail wagging.

As soon as Shane is on his feet and getting dressed he’s following him, barely a few inches away from his shadow as Shane flits about, still trying to reassure him every minute. “If you take a nap then you’ll barely notice me being gone. I’ll be home soon enough and we can find a movie or go for a walk if you’re feeling up for it.” Pressing against his side as Shane begins lacing his boots he can feel the medication begin to take affect and he really really cannot stop himself from constantly whining in the back of his throat as he watches Shane get ready to leave him. It’s like a physical pain in his chest and before he can think he’s grabbing Shane’s boot and skittering off to the backyard, dropping the item into the hole he’d dug last night and trying to bury it as well as he can with his back legs still out of commission from the wound.

“Daryl!”

Shane is mad, he’s using the mad tone of voice that means he shouldn’t push and should start apologising, but he doesn’t want Shane to go and leave him here alone. Whimpering he stops pawing dirt over the half hidden boot, looking up to Shane with ears pinned back, tail between his legs and wanting to just look pitiful enough for him to give in and stay here. It doesn’t work, Shane is too mad and snatches up his boot, shaking the damned thing and flicking dirt over Daryl’s fur in irritation. When the human heads inside, shoulders tense, back straight and anger pouring off of him and tainting the air, Daryl follows, not wanting to be apart but not wanting to be in the way and make him angrier. Slinking in he stays low to the floor, it aggravates his injury but he doesn’t want to give off the wrong impression by standing up straight.

He watches as Shane yanks on his boot, tying the laces and muttering to himself in anger, grabbing his wallet, keys and phone and moving in the stiff and awkward manner that spoke of angry humans. Slumped in front of the front door he keeps himself low, whining lightly the entire time and hating how hard his heart is thumping when Shane puts on his jacket and moves to leave. Letting out a full blown whimper he blocks the way, pawing at Shane’s leg and just wishing he could fix this.

“Daryl I’ve got to go, you can’t come with me, you’re supposed to be healing.” He knows that, he knows he’s got to rest and heal, but he doesn’t want Shane to go. Placing his head on Shane’s thigh he whines louder, hoping that when Shane sighs he’s going to give in and stay. A hand reaches to stroke behind his ears and for a second there’s a glimmer of hope when Shane turns to head back to their living area and he follows. “I know it sucks bud.” His human tells him, patting at his head, his side and combing through his fur as he switches on the TV and flicks through to the recorded shows. “Here, I’ll leave on the wolf documentary you like, you can still go outside if you need and there’s fresh water and some kibble out too.”

No. No no no no no. That means he’s still going, he’s going to leave and be out there by himself without Daryl there to protect him and Shane didn’t have any claws or teeth and there were idiots at the station that they let have guns. Whimpering he turns to catch the back of Shane’s jacket in his teeth, hanging on tightly as Shane begins walking away and hating that the other man is strong enough to actually drag him a few feet before his wound forces him to let go. Shane takes the moment of his pain to move quickly, darting out of the door and closing it behind himself.

He’s alone. Alone and scared for Shane and his safety.

Howling loudly he paws at the door, digging in his claws to the marks he’s already left there over the years and uncaring of the paint that chips off. Down the hall he can hear the main door closing behind Shane as he leaves, truly out of the building and leaving him behind. Pacing a little he waits by the door, hoping that it’s all a bit joke, and that Shane would come back.

After a few minutes it becomes clear that he’s not and Daryl whines to himself as he moves away from the door, heading to the living room and listening to the noise of the wolves on the TV. They howl, mingling in a pack, rubbing against each other, growling and whining, happy and together. It makes the loneliness burn even worse inside of himself and he ends up wandering around their apartment, padding over the carpet, rubbing against edges of furniture to scent everything he can and surround himself with a familiar scent.

It doesn’t work, he doesn’t feel any better and though he can’t tell time, Daryl can feel the position of the moon and he knows barely a few minutes have passed. He feels sick, he feels scared, there’s a knot of anxiety in his chest and it’s not loosening at all and every second of his nightmare rolls around in his memory. Pawing at the ground he paces the apartment again and again, moving around the perimeter, checking every sign he can and it’s still not enough to ease this burden inside of himself.

It’s on his fifth pass of the table that he sniffs at one of the legs, licking at the varnished wood and reaching out to clamp his jaws around it. Digging in his teeth he can feel the wood give a little, his fangs leaving dents in the wood, the varnish flaking a little and the grain grinding down. It’s not a lot, but the feeling of having something in his mouth helps and he growls a little in contentment as the worry eases a tiny amount. Grinding his teeth against the table leg he feels the scratches form, splinters of wood dropping to the floor and he huffs a little, scraping them from his tongue before nipping at it again.

Shaking himself he can feel the medication digging into his system, the sound of the wolf pack on the TV calling to him and making the separation from Shane feel even more permanent. Loping over to the couch he paws at the corner of it, moving to sink his teeth into the fabric, feeling his fangs catch on each thread and he snarls as he drags the cushion off. It feels good to clamp his jaws into it, as if it’s prey and he’s free to kill it, to take its life and destroy it utterly. Fabric tears, there’s the sound of destruction and his teeth begin picking apart the couch cushion. Foam, stuffing, fabric, thread, everything keeping it together gets ripped apart with a growl.

The pack on TV call to him, he howls back and heads to find more prey to sink his teeth into. The rug in the hallway gets it, the edge of the kitchen cabinets, a towel in the bathroom, the leg of Daryl’s bed, the TV stand, the sole of a pair of Shane’s boots and a book on historical crime scenes too. It’s stupid, but it helps and when he’s busy chewing on something he’s not thinking of Shane, he’s not worrying and wanting to howl and growl at the world for being so unfair.

His side burns like a fire, the anxiety smoothes over into a ball inside of himself and he can keep it swallows down when his jaws are wrapped around something. Killing things helps, feeling powerful and like he can control something helps and he nudges the door of Shane’s bedroom open as he continues on his hunt.

Shane’s bedroom smells the best, a pure bubble of mate and his. Nosing his way onto the bed he nudges aside the covers, rolling about on the bed sheets and loving the mix of his own scent with Shane’s. It’s wonderful, a heady scent of pack and partner and everything he’s ever wanted. Padding around the room he rubs over the furniture in there, the wardrobe, the chest of drawers, the weights Shane used to keep in shape and the desk shoved in the corner. It’s not often he gets to do this, Shane was always so fussy about them having privacy in their own rooms, but things were different now since they were mates. Mates shared everything and so what was Shane’s was now his.

The laundry basket smells the best, all of Shane’s dirty clothing carried his scent the best, and before long he’s got his face shoved into it, knocking it over so he can bury his top half into it and practically taste his mate. Growling in delight he noses at everything, his work clothes, his socks, his casual clothes, his pyjamas until he finds the best, most Shane smelling piece of clothing in the world. Grabbing it between his teeth he trots back out into the living room, tail held high, ears pricked forward and jumping onto the half destroyed couch happily to watch the rest of the wolf documentary and howl along with his well won prize.

When the door clicks open behind him he realises the moon has shifted, time has moved on and he’s been too absorbed in making himself feel better to notice that the few hours Shane had promised to be gone for had passed. Barking happily he leans over the back of the couch, snatching up his well-worn piece of Shane scented clothing and holding it happily between his teeth as he wags his tail in greeting.

“Daryl..why in God’s name have you got my underwear?”


	7. Chapter 7

“Rick hi, you wouldn’t by any chance be interested in owning your very own pet werewolf would you?”

Daryl whines loudly as Shane snarls down the phone to his best friend. The human is pacing back and forth, wearing a groove in the carpet almost as he lets his anger be known. It’s thick in the air around them, almost choking Daryl as he tries his best to apologise.

Creeping closer he keeps low to the ground, ears pinned back and keening in a high pitch as he flops over to show his belly to Shane. The human doesn’t notice at first, far too engaged in ranting to Rick over the telephone, eyes closed as he paces until he stumbles over Daryl’s body and nearly crashes to the floor. It doesn’t help at all with the situation and soon enough Shane is standing over him and raising his voice.

“Get back in that corner and think about what you’ve done!” Shane snaps, using his free hand to force Daryl to roll back over and crawl back to the corner he’d been sent to. He goes with a whimper, tail tucked between his legs and pressing his nose into the corner of the room.

He doesn’t like the corner. It’s Shane’s way of punishing him when he’s done something the human doesn’t like, he calls it a ‘time out’ and apparently it was meant to let him think it all over. Honestly it makes no sense to him, sure he didn’t like the corner, it was boring after all and it separated him from Shane, from he didn’t think it was so bad a punishment. Besides it was only a few pieces of furniture he’d chewed on.

Surely Shane knew that he couldn’t help it? He’d been anxious about being alone, and somehow chewing had made him feel better. It wasn’t his fault and besides, it wasn’t Shane didn’t know he liked to chew things sometimes; it was why he’d brought him Stryker in the first place. Hell if his favourite toy wasn’t currently in the laundry he’d have been happy to chew on him, but Shane had been the one saying the stuffed squirrel toy needed a wash to get the slobber out of his fur.

Huffing lightly he settles back on the ground, resting his head on his paws and watching as Shane continues to pace, running his fingers through his hair as he continues his rant.

“He’s a menace Rick. The place is pretty much destroyed.” Shane moves around the place, picking at his clothing with new holes in it, the chewed up fabric in rags on the floor around them. The human groans, picking at pieces of furniture that were now decorated with teeth marks. “He has eaten everything and if he hasn’t eaten it, he’s chewed it.”

Shane speaks as if they couldn’t just buy new things. Humans seemed to enjoy having material possessions anyhow; he’d even be on his best behaviour and go shopping with him. Besides, it wasn’t his fault. Shane should never have left him alone in the first place. It wasn’t his fault that chewing on things made him feel better.

“I don’t care, I was only gone for a few hours.” Shane tells Rick, still pacing, still angry and glaring at him every so often. Daryl whines in apology but Shane snorts at it, not accepting it at all as he continues. “He’s driving me insane and I don’t know how to fix it.” That makes him whine even louder and he tucks his tail up beneath himself at hearing Shane says that. He never wants Shane to hate him, mates should be able to trust each other with their lives and anger between them wouldn’t accomplish that.

“I know he’s been in feral form before, but something is different this time. He’s more…wolfie.” His mate tries to explain and Daryl understands where he’s coming from. Usually he finds it easier to keep it to a more acceptable level, but the medication was making it so difficult. “I don’t know, maybe it’s the wound or the medication or something, he’s just way more animal this time.” Barking a little in agreement, Daryl isn’t surprised when Shane merely glares at him again before turning away from him.

There’s a moment where all Daryl can hear is the muffled buzz of Rick’s voice over the phone, no doubt trying to calm Shane down from his anger high. That was one thing he had to admit that Rick had over him, he was always better at getting Shane to calm down from getting caught up in his emotions. Werewolves thrived on emotions, body language was key and he knew how to read people as well as wolves. However, Shane never liked how he tried to help out. His mate always tried to stop him from licking faces, when he was mad he never wanted to scuffle to let it out and Daryl ended up being the focus of Shane’s anger.

Of course right now he supposed there was a reason for Shane to be mad at him, but still, that didn’t mean he had to like it.

Being ignored like this makes him feel anxious again and though he’s still relegated to the corner in his stupid ‘time out’ he still feels the want to chew on something. Huffing to himself he begins nosing at the bandages still wrapped around his side, tugging at them between his fangs and growling as he tries to rip at the fabric.

“I know it’s not his fault. I know, I know he’s recovering and I’m sure he can’t help it.” Clearly Rick is continuing to give some good advice over the phone if he’s managed to get Shane to calm down a little. Sure he’s still tense but his mate does look a little guilty for his outburst at least. “You don’t understand Rick, he’s just a lot to handle right now. You know he spent the whole of last night in my bed? Grooming me too. Woke up this morning covered in wolf drool and fur.”

Humans could be so unappreciative sometimes. Daryl would never understand how they’d managed to survive so long with such a poor sense of smell. To him scent was one of the most important aspects of his life, it was like having a silent imprint of every single person in the world at his disposal and he could tell so much from it all. Humans were practically blind compared to him.

So spending the night scenting Shane was more than just social grooming. It was scenting him, marking him up as his own, something of his that other wolves and humans alike needed to respect. Marking him up was just a way of making sure everyone knew that Shane was a part of his life, a huge part, someone that was his and should be left alone by others. Shane just couldn’t see that, he didn’t understand how much it meant to be protected all night long by his mate.

Across the room Shane gives a heavy sigh, rubbing at his closed eyes and nodding a little as he continues his conversation with Rick. “I’ve read all the books too Rick, remember I had to sit the same tests as you to get this job.” Snuffling a little Daryl yanks at the bandages again, nosing beneath them and licking at his still shaved side. He remembers all the times Shane had spoken about how hard he’d had to work to get into the Lycan unit. Apparently there had been multiple exams to go through and that was all before Daryl had even arrived on the scene. So he knew Shane had a good understanding of the way humans thought wolves worked; but that was the thing. It’s only how humans _thought_ wolves worked. They assumed far too much sometimes.

“I’m sure he was just being protective of me. I know it’s instinctive for him and I’m sure I would be flattered if it weren’t so slobbery and everything.” Shane mutters, sounding a little petulant as he replies, as if accusing Rick of calling him stupid. Again Daryl knows that’s not happening, as usual Rick was just getting Shane to stop focussing on his emotions so much and getting him to actually think about what had happened from a more stable perspective. Rick was a truly wonderful member of their pack.

Licking over his wound, Daryl can feel the itch of the stitches creep up on him again, making him growl a little at the small amount of pain there. His ears perk up when Shane speaks again, and glancing up he tilts his head to the side when Shane watches him. “No, he’s currently sitting in the corner, thinking about what he’s done.” Again there’s a pause, and Shane nods a little. “Okay, okay I won’t hold it against him.”

Whining lightly he stops picking at his bullet wound enough to sit up, licking at Shane’s fingers when his mate reaches out to rub behind his ears. “Yeah maybe being cooped up inside is driving him stir crazy.” Daryl wags his tail at that, leaning in to Shane’s side a little as the human continues his conversation, sounding a little excited over whatever Rick is saying. “Really? That would be great actually, I think we could both do with the fresh air.” There’s some more planning, some nodding but Shane feels more relaxed, at ease and not so tense anymore. Daryl likes that. “Alright, tomorrow then? See you then Rick, thanks.”

With a grin and a farewell Shane finally hangs up the telephone, tossing the handset aside onto a sideboard and finally focussing all of his attention on Daryl. Huffing a little he can’t help but enjoy when Shane runs his fingers through his fur, ruffling at his chest a little and making him whine in pleasure. Pinning his ears back a little he nudges beneath Shane’s chin, licking at the soft skin there in supplication and hoping that his silent apology will be accepted.

“Alright you learnt your lesson?” Shane asks, moving to rub behind his ears and humming in acceptance when Daryl barks a little in answer. “Okay you can come out of the corner then.”

Punishment now over with Daryl eagerly jumps to his feet, padding out from the corner and shaking himself off before padding back to rub against Shane’s legs in apology. His human gives a small sigh, patting at his side before heading down the hall to his bedroom with Daryl following behind him as the bandage around his side slowly loosens further and further every step.

“Yeah yeah, I know you’re sorry.” Shane talks to him even though there’s no chance of a reply from him since he’s still restricted to feral form. “Just…furniture costs money you know? So any more anxious chewing, please keep it to Stryker from now on? That’s what he’s there for bud.” Well of course his stuffed toy squirrel was for that, but the damned thing was still in the dryer, and probably not smelling right at all anymore. Whinging a little he paws at Shane’s pant leg after he’s changed into more relaxed clothing, trying to convey his problem with that and his wants.

Fortunately his human has learnt how to speak wolf relatively well and it’s with a small smile and nod that Shane taps at his head to get him to follow as he heads down the hall to their small laundry room. “Let’s go get your baby, and then I need to check your wound again.”

Daryl knows what Shane is doing right now. The baby joke is something just between them, Shane calling Stryker his baby and teasing him a little, making him growl and nip at his legs as they walk. But he knows Shane does care about him really, the fact that he’s giving him his favourite toy before doing something as uncomfortable as checking on his wound proves it.

Shutting off the dryer Shane grabs the mass of towels that had been in the same wash as Stryker before picking out the stuffed toy from the bundle of fabric. He’s raggedy, with half an ear chewed off, some of his fur missing and various stitched up holes over his body; but Stryker is still his favourite thing in the human world other than Shane. “Careful, he’s still hot.” Shane tells him, but as soon as he’s within reach Daryl is clamping his jaws around the toy squirrel, growling in pleasure as he heads to their living room.

The feel of the heated body in his mouth is wonderful, almost like a freshly made kill and he can’t help but wave his tail high as he settles himself on the couch as he waits for Shane. Easing Stryker to lay between his paws, he has fun simply grooming him for a while, remarking him with his own scent and rubbing over his fur until he doesn’t smell quite so alien. See now if he’d had this during the hours that he’d been alone then maybe he wouldn’t have chewed on half the furniture instead.

Fingers run down over his sides and he murmurs in reply, gnawing on Stryker’s ears as Shane pets him a little before picking at the bandages on his side. “What did I say about licking at it?” Shane grumbles but there’s no real anger there, not when his fingers were so soft and gentle over his still wounded side. The bandages are shifted aside and the stitched wound revealed, still red and sore looking but definitely healing with his elevated healing abilities. “Well it’s not too bad, could be better though bud.”

Honestly he’s not bothered by it. Wounds would heal, he’d be better before long and his body would barely even have a scar to show for it when he was in feral form. Sure his human skin tended to mark easier, the scars on his back from being captured by poachers as a pup were a sign of that, but he never really cared much about his appearance. A damp cloth is pressed to his side, not rubbing but just making sure his wound is clean and not running the risk of infection. Leaning back a little he drops Stryker for a second to nuzzle at Shane’s hand, licking over his fingers gently in thanks for caring for him when he didn’t have any fingers of his own.

“You’ve got an appointment with Hershel in a couple of days to get the stitches out, by then you should be almost back to normal. Once you’ve gotten the all clear from him they want us to have a quick test at work and everything before we can go back on active duty. But you know if you’re not ready to go back, you can have all the time off in the world.”

He huffs at that. There’s no way he could sit at home for much longer than a week anyhow, he’d go crazier than he already felt. Besides, he enjoyed his job and usually it wasn’t anywhere near as dangerous as it had been that day. Mouthing a little at Shane’s fingers he tries to put it across that he couldn’t leave his humans without him for too long, and he knows that Shane gets the gist of his meaning when he scratches over his muzzle.

“Yeah I know bud, just don’t want you pushing yourself too fast.”

As if. Most of their days at work were spent sitting in the car and waiting for something to happen. Mostly it was simple patrols around their designated route and talking about everything and nothing with Rick while trying to decide where they would go for lunch. King’s County wasn’t exactly crime central; pushing himself would be a task in and of itself.

After his wound is as clean as it’s going to get and Shane seems satisfied that it is healing, it’s covered again, this time with a simple adhesive patch and no bandages wrapped around his waist. Shane moves to join him on the couch, and Daryl shifts accordingly until he’s settled with his head on Shane’s lap and Stryker still trapped between his teeth. Digging in his fangs he chews contentedly as Shane runs his fingers over the top of his head, petting him lightly as he speaks.

“Tomorrow we’re going to the park with Rick and Carl, they’ve got the day off as well and thought you might be getting bored of seeing the same four walls.” Shane tells him and Daryl gives a muffled yip of excitement at the plan. Usually he hated going to the park when in feral form. A lot of people mistook him for a dog and tried to pet him without his permission, or they threw sticks and didn’t take him seriously at all. But right now, getting outside would probably help with the anxiety and it would do him some good to get some fresh air. Plus, he always liked getting to hang out with Rick and Carl.

Well at least it looked like tomorrow was going to be a good day, and Shane wasn’t pissed at him anymore either. Grooming Stryker he settles himself for the evening with Shane to watch shitty movies together and eat more junk food, already eager for tomorrow to come sooner.


	8. Chapter 8

Daryl spends the night in Shane’s bed with him again. This time he doesn’t even bother going to his own room first, it was easier to just carry Stryker between his jaws and make himself comfortable on Shane’s bed as his human got himself changed into his sleepwear. Well pyjama pants at least. Shane seemed to prefer being more bare for sleeping than he ever was during the day. Humans were strange like that. They didn’t want to be protected by clothing when they were their most vulnerable, so of course Daryl knows it’s a good thing that he’s there for Shane.

The human sighs a little, but doesn’t complain too much, or at least not very loudly. Daryl doesn’t mind, Shane just didn’t like to think of himself as being vulnerable or needing protection. He just places a paw over Stryker and curls into his human’s side, nuzzling his muzzle into Shane’s neck and giving a gentle lick before they go to sleep. The human sighs again, grumbling to himself, but he doesn’t shove Daryl away and he knows that means he likes it really.

It’s a restful night for the two of them at least. Daryl isn’t plagued by nightmares, and though he’s jostled about a bit as Shane shifts in his sleep, it doesn’t bother him and he’s more than happy to curl into Shane’s grip when his human throws his arms around him. Shane isn’t the cuddliest of humans, that tended to be something Daryl observed human pups and females doing more of, but in his sleep Shane is different. He spends the night with his human holding him, enjoying the feel of Shane’s breath ruffling his fur and his heartbeat thudding against his back.

The sound of the alarm clock wakes him up. His ears prick forwards, and even before he’s opened his eyes Daryl is giving a small growl in retaliation. Shane feels the same, and there’s a small moan from his human before Shane is reaching out to slam a hand on top of the demon device. It not even really that early, and as soon as Daryl is awake he remembers what they’re planning on doing today and getting excited for it.

He stretches before rolling onto his paws, tail already high in the air as he wags it from side to side before nuzzling at Shane to wake him up. The human groans, shoving at his muzzle and trying to get him to stop, but Daryl is persistent, carrying on until he’s sitting on top of Shane and mouthing at his fingers happily. There’s a small laugh, Shane stretches beneath him and if Daryl could grin down to him he would. Instead he licks at his mate’s cheek gently, letting a small noise of pleasure rumble in his chest to Shane.

His mate is perfect in every way. Strong enough to rough house with him, understanding of his wolfish ways and more than happy to allow him into every aspect of his life. Shane’s fingers reach up to scratch behind his ears; gentle and caring as he yawns himself awake. “Good morning.” His human greets him and Daryl can only wag his tail harder. Shane still spoke to him when he was feral, and that mean a lot, even if he can’t answer verbally. “Sleep well?”

Of course he did, getting to rest with his mate was a privilege and he gives a low wuff of agreement before nudging at Shane’s side. His human chuckles in understanding and shifts beneath him, moving to sit up and letting Daryl hop off his lap and down onto the floor. They move to get ready for the day together, Daryl leaving Shane to shower as he goes outside, going to the bathroom and scenting the border of his territory before heading back inside.

Shane is brushing his teeth when he comes back inside, ignoring the closed bathroom door and barging his way inside easily. Sure his human huffs when he nudges his way up to drink straight from the sink faucet, but he doesn’t say no and just moves to carry on grooming around him. They’re a perfect pair, synchronised in their movements as they prepare for a day and it’s their usual ritual that Daryl feels so comfortable with.

Breakfast. Medication. Him grabbing the mail. Shane reading the mail and complaining about bills. Shane checking his side is clean and putting on a new patch over his wound. And then when Daryl can feel the moon has moved enough, Shane finally says it.

“Alright, let’s get ready to go to the park.”

Daryl is up in seconds, letting out a bark of excitement as he bounces about their apartment to get what he wants for the day outside. It feels like he’s been trapped indoors for far too long, even if it’s only been a couple of days. He can’t help it, when he’s in feral form everything inside of him needs to be free. The wolf inside of him needs to roam, to wander and enjoy the world out there. Wolves weren’t made to be house pets; he was made to feel the earth beneath his paws and to track a rabbit before hunting it down and crushing its life out between his jaws. It makes the need within him buzz and he can feel the want build inside of himself as he paces their territory.

His claws click against the flooring as he grabs what he wants; dumping things in a pile beside the bag that Shane’s left out on the floor by the front door. He can already see that Shane’s ‘feral kit’ was in there. Items needed for when he was in feral form, a water bowl, some treats he enjoyed, a muzzle for if they went somewhere that required it of him, towels and blanket, but there was one thing missing. Grumbling to himself he bounds back to the bedroom, grabbing up Stryker and carrying him through to drop him into the bag.

Shane moves about in the kitchen, putting together some things for a lunch for them, but Daryl knew there was going to be more coming from the Grimes family. Lori always gave Rick extra treats to bring him and if they were going out for the whole day, she’d probably leave even more for all of them. It makes him lick his jaws before he’s grabbing out other things for them to take. A tennis ball, one of his rope toys and he’s even kind enough to bring Shane’s boots to the front door for him.

He tries to be patient while his human checks on things, locking doors and windows, unable to smell that Daryl has scented everything so thoroughly that only an idiot would dare to try encroach upon their space. Shane repacks the bag full of their things, checking and rechecking it before closing it up. They are ready, he knows they are, and it’s with an eagerness that he stands to wait for Shane to open the door for him.

“Hold up a second bud.” Shane calls for him, but he doesn’t want to wait when they’re so close to getting to go to the park and be free for a while. Whining a little he paws at the door, eager to get going when there were only so many hours of daylight left for them to enjoy. “Hey, come here or we’re not going anywhere at all.”

Growling a little in frustration he lopes away from the door, slinking back to Shane’s side, ears down as he peers up at him to question why there were wasting time. His human reaches down to pet him, rubbing behind his ears a little before reaching for something beside him. Daryl tilts his head to the side in confusion; they weren’t going to work, so why did Shane have a harness for him?

“I know you ain’t a dog, and you don’t want a collar.” Shane explains, holding out the harness for him to sniff at and inspect for himself. It’s new, but not new. It doesn’t smell fresh, just unused, covered in Shane’s scent but it’s stale. It’s been here a while, but not been used before. “We got it when you first joined the force, I would use your vest but your new one hasn’t been made yet. But I know you don’t want people treating you like a dog. So this should be enough for them to see you’re actually a professional.”

The harness is black straps, it looks pretty ordinary except for the printing all over it. In bright yellow, gold almost to match his badge, are the words; Lycan Unit Officer. It follows all over the harness, never ending and definitely enough to let people know that he certainly wasn’t a dog they could pet. Wagging his tail a little harder he hops up to lick at Shane’s face in thanks, whining a little to let him know that he appreciates the thought.

He doesn’t even wriggle when Shane holds out the harness for him, letting him step into the right places and make sure the straps are tight enough for him. The buckles snap into place easily, and the only strap that comes anywhere near his neck is so loose it feels like nothing. It’s definitely not a collar, his neck is still bare and he’s glad of it, collars make him want to bite and hurt whoever put it on him. But with this harness on it’s like wearing nothing at all, and when Shane is finished making it fit he shakes himself all over, checking it is all secure before giving a small bark of acceptance.

Shane pets his head roughly, it’s not harsh, it’s just rough and he enjoys it. His human knows what he enjoys and it’s not long before Shane is grabbing up the bag and opening the door for him. Daryl can’t help but bolt out quickly, leaving their apartment building and pacing about the sidewalk of their neighbourhood. The air outside is fresh, full of life and so many stories to tell him. He can pant and rush about as much as he likes while Shane gets the truck ready, rubbing his face over the walls near their home to scent it and learning about the people in their neighbourhood.

The kids down a couple of houses had been through recently, one eating candy and the other smelling of excitement over something. The corgi next door had been trying to act bigger than he was again. But most obviously, no new people had moved in without his knowledge and that was a relief. He knew the place would be secure whilst he was gone, it was a quiet neighbourhood mainly, and besides nobody wanted to piss off a werewolf if they could help it.

The honk of a horn gets him hopping back over to the truck, bounding into the front seat and pawing at Shane as he gets himself comfortable in his seat. Shane lets him, closing the truck door behind him and winding down the window for him as he likes. Shane knows him so well, chuckling a little as he buckles him up as best he can. Honestly Daryl doesn’t care for seatbelts, but if it’ll stop Shane from worrying then he’ll allow it. Besides it wasn’t a long drive to the park and his human was only scared for his safety.

Settling into his seat he doesn’t care how big he is, or that Shane is trying to concentrate on the road while his tail constantly wags and hits at his side. He can’t help it, after being cooped up for so long he’s so excited to get outside and just breathe for a while. Paws and head resting on the door sill he enjoys the feel of the wind on his muzzle as they drive, able to smell everything as they drive past and learn more about the town around him. King’s County was a peaceful place, but it didn’t make it any less interesting.

He knew the whole layout, he knew every single alleyway and turn in the road because this was his town to protect. He was the one given this duty, he was the one allowed to join the human police and it was his and his partner’s duty to keep these people safe. As much as it was intended to be a punishment at first, he loves it now and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

The drive to the park doesn’t take long and his tail doesn’t stop the whole way there. Shane talks to him about everything and nothing but by the time they pull in and park up, he’s unable to sit still anymore. Heck if he didn’t have the dignity of a pure bred wolf he’d probably have jumped out the truck window to get out there. Be he stops himself, even if he is standing in his seat, head out the window and almost howling in excitement.

“Calm down.” Shane laughs, but it’s playful, not in a mocking way. He enjoys it and pounces on the other man, tongue already hanging out as he pants in excitement. Gently he mouths at the human’s hands, always aware of how fragile human flesh is compared to his thick wolf skin. When roughhousing with his own kind he can go all out because they’re evenly matched, but with Shane he always has to hold back, at least enough not to break skin. His human understands, he laughs and wrestles back, grabbing at the ruff of his fur and head butting him in return. It’s fun and playful, it’s safe and only helps to reinforce the bond between them. “You’re crazy.” Shane tells him and Daryl may not agree, but he doesn’t mind either.

They only have to wait a few minutes for the Grimes family car to pull up beside them. Immediately Daryl is howling in greeting, pawing at Shane to hurry up and move so they can get out and enjoy themselves already. Finally, finally the truck door is opened and he’s unbuckled from the seatbelt and allowed out.

The ground feels great beneath his paws, it’s almost like he can feel the world beneath him, wild and free as he points his muzzle to the sky and takes a deep breath of the nature around him. It’s like waking up all over again and he can feel his energy spiking as everything instinctive some out in him.

Panting heavily he lets his eyes scan the park, enjoying the acres and acres of land before him. Woods line the grassland, mini patches of trees all over and the surrounding woodland that hides the roads from them all. In the centre is a child’s play park, human pups and their parents running about and climbing on the apparatus, a small kiosk for ice creams to the side and a few park benches nearby for the adults to sit at. Over one side is the lake, ducks swimming about on the surface and reeds lining it, children watching and feeding them as others walk their dogs alongside the edge.

It’s perfect. It’s real and alive and Daryl can barely hold himself back from it all.

Carl greets him, his fingers snagging into Daryl’s fur in a half hug, hug pet, and Daryl is murmuring in greeting as the kid stands beside him. Rick reaches out to rub behind his ear and Daryl’s tail is wagging as the two human adults grab what the need from the cars before locking them up. He’s eager to lead them all over to the park, heading their pack with Carl beside him, hand on his shoulder as they trot across the grass.

“Lori wasn’t feeling too good this morning. She’s feeling a little queasy, probably got a bug or something so she wanted to get some rest instead of coming out.” Rick tells Shane and Daryl’s tail wags harder. The humans would figure out the truth soon enough, they just couldn’t smell it as easily as him was all, but when they figured it out he’d be there to congratulate them properly. “She still made us a big picnic though, enough to feed us twice over I think.”

It makes Daryl grin inwardly at hearing that. Lori was not a leader, nor a protector like he was, but she was still an important part of their pack. She provided for them in other ways, like by giving them food, giving them support and reassurance when they needed it. They made a complete pack when they were together and it only made him feel even happier to get to be a part of it.

His paws are aching to run, his fur is ruffled by the wind and he can smell the freshly cut grass in the air. Around him other human packs are having fun, pups running about, adults laughing and talking and Daryl can barely focus at the intensity of it all. Shane and Rick are talking, setting down a blanket near the shade of the trees and setting their bags down on top of it. Carl has a bag himself, full of toys and sports equipment for them to use, but Daryl really isn’t interested for the moment.

Shane is crouched when he approaches him, using the bulk of his body to press against his side and get his attention. Whining a little he paws at his mate’s leg, mouthing at his hand and rubbing his head against Shane’s chest. His mate grabs at him, rubbing over his sides a little and chuckling as he whines and nuzzles for Shane to understand what he needs. Of course he gets it, they’re so in tune as mates usually are. Practically inseparable. Letting out a small howl he butts against him again, enjoying the feel of Shane against him, strong and real as he assures him of his love and affection.

His mate understands even if Daryl can’t speak at the moment and there is a pat to his ribs before Shane is nodding to him. “Alright, go for it, we’ll be here when you get back.” It’s permission; it’s understanding and everything that Daryl needs from his very human mate when he’s really barely human at all at the moment. He’s feral, he’s a werewolf, he’s wild and free and it only takes a second for him to find his feet on the ground beneath him.

Then he runs.


	9. Chapter 9

Paws thud against the ground. Fur ruffles in the air. Panting echoes from his lungs. He is free. He is wild. He is alive. Daryl is a wolf.

It burns through his veins as he sprints through the grass, the scent of life around him; the world is calling to him, freedom and wildlife around him echoing through his ears. He couldn’t stop now if he tried, because right now he’s not human, he’s just wolf, wolf wolf. Claws dig into the dirt for grip as he braces himself, gives himself the extra push he needs to jump a fallen log, landing and darting away in a second. A wolf on a hunt does not stop; he does not pause for anything because he can’t.

His blood is pumping, the world is calling for him to explore it and his nose picks up the scent of everything. Trees, leaves, dirt, water, wildlife, creatures, life is around him, not manufactured by humans, but real, alive and natural. It makes him burn, it makes him pant and drool at the mouth, teeth bared, eyes forward and ears pricked up to hear it all. He is immersed in it all, finding his place in the world, making his niche because this is where he belongs.

Daryl runs because it’s what he was made for. He is a purebred werewolf who has been in feral form for an extended time, it’s been burning beneath the surface, bubbling up inside of himself on instinct and right now he needs to let it all free. So he does, he runs and runs and runs until he’s panting heavily and skidding to a stop in the forest that surrounds the parkland.

Pack land lies beyond this, merely a few miles down the way, drenched in wolf scent, built up on years of tradition and wolves surviving together. Here he stands on the edge of territory, catching his breath, letting the drool fall to the floor as he pads about the grass and flowers around him. His nose points to the ground, taking in every single scent he can, finding rabbits in the area, squirrel, birds and even the occasional deer. It’s like finding himself again, giving himself a way to ground himself when he’s been so caught up in the human world for so long.

He adores the human world, of course he does, he lives in it, but it’s not, and never will be his. Daryl is a wolf through and through, this is his world and right now he needs to be in it after so long of being somewhere else. Dropping to the ground he rolls about in the grass, huffing in pleasure, tail wagging heavily against the ground as he simply writhes for a moment. It’s so real and vibrant, fur in grass and dirt, sharing his scent with nature and getting to be free if only for a little while.

Normally it’s not so hard to keep it inside. Usually he spends more time in his human form, able to resist the instinctive urge because it’s not as insistent when he’s human. But he’s been feral for too long, so many days in fur and paws and it makes him need to be like this. Out in the open world and rubbing his face over trees, letting his paw prints mark the earth and clamping his jaws about a low hanging branch to crunch it in his teeth and feel the sheer power he holds within himself.

Sometimes people forgot that he was not a pet. Wolves were not dogs, he was a wild animal, someone raised to be that way and sometimes it was hard to keep a lid on it. Shane and he have found their way to live together and his mate never restricts him from leaving and exploring the woods if he needs to. But it’s harder to find the time when he has duties in the human world, and when Shane doesn’t fit in the forest as easily as he can fit into the human world. He has found a way to make it work, using his instincts in his job to keep his pack protected, but sometimes he just needs this.

Huffing a little he enjoys the scents around him, trotting through the wildlife, able to feel the breeze in the air and the way it makes him want to just breathe it in forever. It feels like a lot of stress has been lifted from his chest, a weight taken from him and given the freedom to fly away as he lets his instincts take him over. Daryl can breathe again; he can walk about the place and rub over trees, chew at the grass, feel the world around him and be at one with it for just a while. Just enough to feel wolf again.

It’s not that Shane tries to stop his urges, but sometimes the human world just doesn’t allow for what he needs. Humans don’t have the same rhythms that he has buzzing through him, there is no heat burning through them, no inner urge to kill and mark, wolves have a desire to own and need to let their territory be known. Humans have their own territories marked by ownership, but it’s ownership with money, not with strength or power. Humans fight wars over land, but they fight it with other things instead of passion. The richer man wins the war, not the one who wants it most.

Wolves were different to humans in that respect.

When he wants something, he owns it with power. He wants Shane as his mate, he wants their home to be their territory, and he wants the world to know what is his. It’s why he scents the place all the time, it’s why he protects his human from danger, it’s why he took a godamned bullet to his side and broke that kid’s arm for daring to point a weapon at his pack. When Daryl owned, he owned completely, and people would have to kill him to get something or someone that he considered his.

Shane is his. His completely. His mate to groom and protect at night, to scent mark and walk alongside as equals. Daryl owns Shane as much as Shane owns him, they are a pair, a team, they work together, live together and move as one. Being more feral than normal has brought these feelings out in him. When wolf he can’t hide them because wolves hide nothing, wolves are real and honest, and right now the world can feel his emotions as easily as he can. The bond between he and Shane is intense; they are one, mated for life and together as a team. He loves it.

The sound of a whistle through the air makes his ears prick up, and he knows that it’s Shane calling for him. His mate trusts him, but the human is also aware of how lost he can get in his own mind when he’s feral and free. Shane knows when he needs to be reigned in, Shane knows that he needs to be grounded and so his human is calling him back now he’s had his time to enjoy the wildlife around him.

Giving a short howl of understanding into the air, Daryl begins heading back the way he came, paws digging into the ground as he retraces his steps to the park. His human can howl, he’s taught him how to do it, but in public he supposes it’s better to whistle instead. It takes time to pad back to where the woodland thins out, the border between his two worlds more than obvious. On one side, pack land, trees thick with shadow, nature and grass growing thick until they’re knotted and kidding the wolves that lived beyond them from sight. The other side was thinned nature, coasting down into mown grass, dirt trails made by hiking boots and years of humans sticking to the same route. Here he is in the middle, stepping between the two, if only it were as easy as hopping over a log and loping out from between the trees.

The acres of land stretch before him, open and clear, an easy sightline for the humans to keep track of. The human pups play in the play park, climbing over the jungle gym there as they’re watched by their parents, squealing and laughing as they enjoy themselves. It’s calm and enjoyable, leaving Daryl feeling relaxed as he falls back into his place in the human world, a werewolf trying to quell the instincts within himself as he heads back over to his pack members.

They’re exactly where he left them, sitting on the picnic blanket together as they eat, chatting and sharing smiles between them, the perfect image of a calm pack at ease with each other. It makes him feel so happy, so glad to be a part of this unconventional pack that he’s found all by himself. Heading over to them all Daryl lets his tail wag high in the air, showing his pleasure at being graced with such a pack to care for.

Of course the first person he greets is his mate, lumbering up to Shane’s side where he sits, leaning his bulk against him, head butting at him, scenting him by rubbing their faces together. It’s a ritual, it’s natural and Shane allows it, even closing his eyes and rubbing his so human skin into the fur of his muzzle. Daryl gives a low rumble of pleasure in his chest, tongue sneaking out to stroke over Shane’s lips quickly in an inter species kiss. His human doesn’t mind, giving a small laugh as fingers wind into his fur.

“Where you been huh? Enjoy your run?” Shane asks him and though Daryl cannot answer verbally, he knows that Shane can understand when he gives a slight huff of agreement. “Bet you needed that huh bud? Been cooped up far too long in that apartment.”

Giving a yap of agreement, Daryl sinks to the floor beside Shane on the blanket, resting his head on his human’s knee. Opposite to them sit Rick and Carl, eating through the snacks they’d brought with them and the pup seems to have plenty of games for them to play. Eating the beef jerky Shane feeds him, Daryl gives himself the time to breathe, time to acclimatise to his place again.

Slipping between his two sides is difficult enough on a normal day, but when he’s been trapped inside his feral form for so long it’s even more difficult. There are no human hormones trailing through his body right now, his mind is pure wolf and each day of more medication and paws, jaws, fur and fangs only makes it even harder to remember that side of himself. He has to stop himself from giving in to the instinct to fight, hunt and provide for his pack.

They still need him; they just need him in different ways.

Shane already has his bowl out and filled with cool water for him, giving Daryl much needed fluids to cope with the summer heat mixed with his shaggy fur coat. His summer coat is coming in, thick clumps of fur coming loose every day to leave him with a thinner pelt, but it’s not in fully yet and he can feel the heat easier. Panting a little he enjoys the water, licking at his jaw as he shakes himself free of his worries for a while and tries to just focus on enjoying himself.

The sun keeps the heat at a high level, around the park other families are enjoying themselves, feeding the ducks in the lake, children running about and playing tag. It’s so peaceful in the human world, such a contrast from his own puppyhood. There is no need to keep an eye out for rival packs and though he knows there are still predators in the human world, it’s not the same. Being in the Lycan Unit means he is aware of the dangers that can be out there, and he can see parents keeping an eye on their pups, but there is still a carefree aura to it all.

Humans were their own species, top of the food chain, top of every food chain and sneaky too. Rolling onto his side, Daryl rests against Shane, enjoying the feel of his human’s fingers running through the fur on his side as he rests for a moment. He is always alert for danger, but it’s not the same for humans. They do not have to keep an ear out for hunters or poachers, there is no trade for human-pelt and they’re not seen as a dangerous species that are a threat. His human pack is not afraid of him, they understand who he is over what he is, but some are still lost in the myths and lore of old.

Not his pack though, they knew him, they respected him and it’s why he doesn’t take any offence when Carl comes over to him and tugs on his ear to wake him up. Daryl doesn’t snap, doesn’t think it as Carl not respecting him, he just knows it’s the kid feeling safe and trusting him entirely.

“Hey Daryl, wanna come play Frisbee with me?” The pup asks, tugging on his ears, ruffling at his fur until he’s looking up at him and giving a slight yip of acceptance. Of course he’ll play with the pup, this whole day out at the park was Carl’s idea in the first place and besides, he loves getting to spend time with Carl.

Rolling to his feet there is a slight tug on his harness as he gets up, Shane catching his attention as Carl grabs the toy from the bag. “Hey bud, remember gentle alright? Carl ain’t a criminal, he doesn’t need any bite marks.” Of course he knows that and he’d never ever hurt Carl, but Shane can feel the way he’s been acting, Shane knows he’s more feral and his mate wants to keep that under control. So Daryl opens his jaw to bite at Shane’s arm, not hurting, just mouthing at him, gentle, the way he’d carry a pup. Showing his mate just how calm he is and how he will protect their pup from harm, even from himself. “Yeah, that’s right. Puppy teeth when playing.” Shane agrees.

Puppy teeth when playing with the pup, he could do that no problem and besides, he never hurt anybody unless Shane said so. They weren’t working anyway; there was no need to hurt anybody. Playtime was for fun and right now he wants to have fun. Letting go of Shane’s arm he gives an understanding lick to his mate’s face before trotting off, barking for Carl to follow him.

The pup is as eager as he is, bouncing on his toes and already throwing the Frisbee for Daryl to chase after and catch. It’s nothing but relaxing to get to grab it, shaking the piece of plastic like prey before taking it back to Carl for him to throw again. They go back and forth a few times before Rick comes over to join them, and he and Carl set up a game of werewolf in the middle with him.

It’s great fun to run back and forth, to feel the earth beneath his feet and the excited laughter from Carl when Daryl tackles him to the floor slowly to try and grab the Frisbee. They end up wrestling for a while, Rick helping out, laughing and trying to protect his son from the ‘monster’ that’s attacking him. It reminds Daryl of when he and Merle would tussle, the two of them nipping and rolling about in the dirt, play growling and snarling at each other as they played. Carl giggles beneath him, hidden by his fur as Rick pulls Daryl off of him, laughing along with his son as he claims victory, Daryl panting as his tail wags hard against the ground.

Carl grabs the Frisbee as a trophy, holding it high in the air and hollering that he’s the champion. Jumping up at him Daryl makes sure not to claw at him, jaws snapping for the Frisbee, avoiding Carl completely. He’s as careful as can be but still enjoying himself, not stopping from bounding into the air, chasing Carl in a circle and giving a playful tug to his pant leg with his teeth as he fights for the Frisbee.

“I’m open Carl, pass it here!” Rick cries, laughing and waving his arms in the air.

It only takes a second and Carl is throwing the Frisbee at his dad, laughing when Daryl huffs loudly before bounding in the same direction. Rick misses the catch, cursing himself as the toy flies by him, moving by to get lost in the trees they sit alongside and leaving Shane laughing at their failure.

Seeing a way to win the game of keep away, Daryl pelts after it, darting between the trees, skidding in the dirt as he finds the plastic disc and clamps it in his jaws. Shaking it hard he kills it, feeling the surge of adrenaline rush through his at the joy of the chase and the hunt. Sure it was a Frisbee, but anything is better than nothing. Feeling pleased with himself he grabs up the Frisbee, trotting through the long uncut grass of the woodland framing the park and heading back to his pack.

His ears fall back to lit flat on his head when he sees the woman sitting on their picnic blanket with Shane.


	10. Chapter 10

There are things that Daryl knows are very different between the human world and the werewolf world. He’s lived in this strange straddle between them both for long enough now to know when some things are acceptable and some things aren’t. At first it took him a while to get used to wearing clothes all the time when in human form, he had to learn that some things weren’t to be chewed on, and that humans didn’t tend to scent things at all. But when it came to ownership, humans were as possessive as wolves.

The difference was that humans owned with money, they made pacts with words and deals, signed pieces of paper and had silent understandings of borders and rules. Laws held up ownership, humans believed they were entitled to what was theirs and any taking of such without permission was against the law. Daryl had watched as money exchanged hands and food became Shane’s in a store just because he’d given them some green stained paper. It had been perplexing to understand when things worked so differently in the werewolf world he was used to.

Ownership was taken with fighting and fangs, nothing was ever given in the wolf world it was only ever taken, or earned through fighting. Packs were made and ruled with blood being spilled, the strongest taking what they wanted with sheer force and letting others fall in line. Food was earned with hunting, you didn’t fight for it then you didn’t eat. The strongest earned what they had by sheer will and as a wolf if you had your territory, your pack, your food, your pups, you fought to keep them from rivals.

So when he sees Shane on that picnic blanket sitting with the woman, there is an urge of overwhelming possessiveness that takes over him. He can feel the feral side of himself rearing up, all humanity lost for a moment as his blood pulses around his body. It’s a fire within him, an urge to defend and protect what is his. Because Shane is his and he is Shane’s. They are mated. They are bonded and he will not lose his mate because of a threat from some human female.

A loud growl echoes from his throat, the Frisbee falls from his mouth as his teeth are bared, claws digging into the ground beneath him as his body prepares for a fight. His body is running on instinct as he moves closer towards them both, leaving the Frisbee behind as he approaches, ears back, tail rigid, hackles raised and fur on end. There is no thought, it’s all emotion, all a need to own and dominate, to claim what is his and make sure the threat knew about it.

He moves, grass against his paw pads, claws catching dirt with each stride, breath huffing out loudly as the growl turns into a full blown snarl the closer he gets. Right now there is no human within him, it’s all wolf, all danger and a promise of death to anyone who gets on the wrong side of him. It’s as if he can feel the pulse through his body, his feral side leaving a gold gleam in his eyes as he paces close enough, body low as if to pounce on prey, to hunt, to kill. Her hair is yellow in the sun, there is the whiff of perfume in the air and he could track her for miles before giving the killing blow if he wanted to chase her for sport.

“Daryl did you get the Frisbee?”

Something shifts within himself, gears change, the veil lifts and his bloodlust sinks into nothing as familiar fingers curl into the fur on his back. Carl. Pack. Pup.

Daryl can see again. The pressure is lifted from his chest as Carl’s scent surrounds him, fingers moving to rub at Daryl’s ears, to bring him back down to a safe level and immediately he stops making any noise of anger and tilts his head back to lick beneath Carl’s chin reassuringly.

For a moment he is ashamed of himself. The human side of himself leaking through and reminding him that this is not how he was supposed to act. Humans did not fight over each other with blood and teeth, they spoke, they may fight but he was supposed to be more controlled than this. It’s the medication that’s doing this. He’s spending so much time in feral form, under a cloud of medication that brings his instincts to the surface and lets him hang on to behaviours that he’s learned throughout his life. It is hard to focus himself like this, and with Shane sitting next to that woman, he’s losing himself in his more feral side and the worst thing is, he’s not so sure he minds it.

Carl laughs to him, moving to grab up the Frisbee from where he’d dropped it and waving it about, ready to start up their game again. But Daryl cannot focus on that right now. The pup is excited, eager to play and enjoy their time together in the open park, but all Daryl can see is the female human beside his mate and it makes his tail twitch in a want to stop it. So he whines a little, presses against Carl’s side and laps at his palm in apology before trotting in the direction of their picnic blanket. The kid seems to understand even if he can’t speak wolf very well, and Rick is calling for his son to let him rest for a while.

He is grateful for that, the pup doesn’t need to see this; it was more an adult matter anyway.

Breathing deeply he tries to reign himself in, tries to focus, to ground himself in the here and now, but every step closer brings with it the scent of floral perfume mixing with Shane’s musky scent, and that growl begins to lodge itself in his throat again. That’s _his_ scent to enjoy. Shane’s scent permeates their home, their territory. It mixes with his own when he scents things and it’s like his own personal scent tag he attaches to his mate. No one else should get to enjoy that without his permission. Shane is his as much as he is Shane’s, and this _intruder_ was just moving in onto their picnic blanket, into his mate’s space and smiling about it.

Daryl knows he is possessive, but he knows he has every right to be.

Approaching the blanket, he is silent in his approach, trying to keep a level head and his nose on finding answers and not on trying to find the best point on her neck to sink his fangs into. It’s with a small huff that he lets his weight fall into Shane’s side, wedging his large body between the two humans sitting on the ground, and letting his bulk barge into their space. Daryl shoves at his human, nudges at him with his head, his paws, his whole body until he has his attention completely.

Shane grins, laughs, smiles, looks so alive and safe, whole, real, _his_. It lets him breathe a little easier, gives him some feeling of ease over the situation and lets the blood stop from pounding around his ears so loudly. He is calm, he is not a hunter, he is a wolf through and through, he is Shane’s, Shane is his and he can handle this.

“Hey bud, how’re you doin’?” Shane asks him, fingers already combing through his fur, latching onto him, pressing close and even leaning in to press his head to his. Daryl rumbles out a growl low in his chest, opening his mouth to latch onto Shane’s wrist, fangs sharp but so gentle since he knows human skin can break so easily. “Yeah I missed you too.” He can almost hear Shane rolling his eyes at him, but he doesn’t mind, knows that humans don’t always understand these things.

Still he mouths over him, nipping and licking over the skin of Shane’s arm and hand, enjoying the rough petting he gets from his human. Shane knows him, knows he can take it, knows he’s not some prissy poodle that needs things gentle. He’s too wild for that, too feral and used to a life outside. His snarls are not of anger and his human knows that, Shane can read him and knows when he’s like this, growling and mouthing at him, using the bulk of his body to shove Shane to the ground and climb on top of him, he’s only speaking wolf, and not a threat.

Not to him at least.

Shane laughs, a little squished, but certainly not upset about it. Daryl whines and rubs against him more, face pressed into Shane’s neck, tongue lolling out to lap at his chin, catching on his stubble a little and enjoying the raspy feel of it. Shane isn’t soft or fragile either, his human can fight, can own and fend for himself. Daryl couldn’t have picked a better mate to have in this harsh world. His tail wags in the air, high and showing his pleasure at getting to be close to someone he loves.

Roughhousing with Shane is one of his favourite pastimes, and even if his side is still a little tender, he still loves having an excuse to be pressed against him. His paws are large enough to pin Shane down, to get his human sprawled on the floor so he can climb on top, can sit on his stomach before lying down across Shane’s chest, the human’s whole body beneath his, safe and protected from the rest of the world due to his own body acting as a shield. He’d taken a bullet for Shane once, and he’d take everything else the world threw at him too if he had to.

Nuzzling beneath Shane’s chin he laps idly at him, grooming him, sharing his scent and marking him in ways that human eyes cannot always see. But he knows. Every other animal will know. Any other rival wolves would know and not dare to disrespect his claim over this human. Letting his long tongue reach behind Shane’s ears and tickle at his hair, he pants happily when Shane’s hands come up to tug on his ears, ruffling his fur but not stopping him from showing his affections.

“Ain’t you groomed me enough lately?” Shane asks him, and Daryl huffs out a snort in answer, not stopping from lapping at his neck for a second. He can feel Shane’s laugh vibrate in his chest beneath him, sounding warm and safe, a true sign of his mate’s happiness. “Silly puppy. Hey, you remember Andrea right? From the case a few weeks ago?” Shane asks him and immediately Daryl is tensing in his arms.

He knew he recognised that perfume. The scent coming off the woman, the intruder, the _threat._ Whining in the back of his throat he paws at Shane’s mouth, trying to get him to stop talking, stop even acknowledging the existence of the woman sitting with them. Of course Shane still isn’t fluent in wolf speak, he’s still learning and ignores Daryl’s attempts to shut him up, wriggling and turning his head with a laugh until he can speak again.

“I know you remember, you ate the corner of her case file.” Shane tugs on his ear, trying to get his attention like he usually does and making Daryl grumble a little in acknowledgement. Still he continues lapping at his human’s chin, tongue catching on stubble, still scenting, still marking, still claiming. “She heard about what happened and wanted to come see how you were doing bud.”

That was probably what she’d told Shane at least, but Daryl highly doubted that was her real reason for coming over here. If it were true she would have come to see him first, not Shane. His human was so damned trusting, so naïve to how sneaky and cunning people could be when they were trying to steal mates. Shane honestly didn’t have a clue, couldn’t smell that Andrea was here for another reason. Had to be here for another reason. No other human cared about him except Shane and the Grimes family. Maybe the Greene’s too. But that was it. They had no reason to trust her, to allow her this close to them, too close to his pack. Why had she come when he was wounded? When he was not at his strongest to defend them all? He knew how packs worked, knew how others would attack when members were at their weakest to overthrow them, to defeat them and stake a claim with fangs and war.

Right now he’s vulnerable, his mate is vulnerable, his pack is vulnerable, and Andrea knows that.

He’s used to humans hating him, fearing him, despising his very existence just because he was born wolf. There is no reason for this circumstance to be any different. For all he knew Andrea was just looking for a reason to snatch his mate from him. She might have a plan to get him sent to the pound. Shane always said lawyers were soulless sons of bitches, and Daryl was inclined to agree with his mate when he could be so unsure of the human world. So he certainly does not trust her, even if she isn’t a stranger.

Shane is still holding him, arms wrapping around his body and keeping him close, talking through Daryl’s continued grooming of his face and neck. “Told her you’re doing better, still not fully healed and the meds are making you a bit loopy, but nothing we can’t handle. Right?” His human laughs, bright and innocent, so unaware of the danger that lurks beside him wearing floral perfume and a bright smile as a disguise. Shane’s fingers comb through his fur, run over his ribs, pet and soothe him even as he remains prepared for a fight.

Daryl wags his tail in response to his human’s question, nipping a little at Shane’s chin before licking over his stubble again, getting him damp enough that when he rubs his face over the same patch, his scent sticks there easier, marks him up more firmly. Claiming him easily. Shane rubs at his ears in response and Daryl knows his human must be enjoying getting his attention. Barking in answer he enjoys sprawling on top of Shane, pinning him to the ground in the middle of the park where all the other humans can see his claim over him. It’s all about displays of ownership for wolves and right now he’s practically shouting out how much Shane is his.

But then there is that waft of perfume again, he can smell as a delicate hand reaches his way and he’s snarling, teeth bared, ears pinned back and body taught, ready to attack if he has to. It’s like a switch gets flicked inside of himself and he’s on edge, shielding Shane, keeping him down and making himself bigger over the top of him. Fur on end, hackles raised, eyes golden, tail up, mouth open, fangs on show, snarl echoing. Dangerous, threatening, protecting. Wolf.

Andrea flinches back, he’s focussed on her now, the way she looks frightened, how her body instantly tries to make itself smaller, hunching in her shoulders and drawing back. She is nothing but prey to him. Weak, someone who dared to try and get close to his mate, a threat that he needs to eliminate if he wants to secure his future. His mate’s future. His pack’s future. Daryl can almost feel the feral blood pulsing through his veins, pushing him harder, making him stronger, instinct driving him purely. The snarl breaks free from his chest, a noise of pure ferociousness, pure anger and wild wolf breaking through to get the threat to back off and away from his mate.

He could kill her if he wanted. It would be so easy. All he’d have to do is get her to start running, then he could hunt her down, chase her until she was exhausted, until she was stumbling and falling, so he could bite at her ankles and snap tendons, he could snap at her calves and rip chunks out of her as she tried to run. If he so wished he could pin her down, get her on her back, belly and throat exposed and he could listen to her beg for mercy as he digs his fangs into the soft underside of her throat. Death wouldn’t be slow, it wouldn’t be graceful, and he would howl with her blood on his muzzle to let every other human know just who they were messing with if they messed with his pack.

“Daryl!”

Fingers grab around his muzzle, clamping his jaws shut and startling him from the bloodlust seeping through him. Immediately he’s whining, trying to shake off Shane’s hand and get a grip over himself. His human tweaks at his ear, doesn’t let go of his muzzle and soon enough he’s wrapped in Shane’s arms again, this time in a firmer grip, one to keep him from doing anything fuelled by jealousy and his feral side. He squirms, whines for forgiveness and he can feel the twinge on his side when he moves too quickly for himself.

“Calm down, calm down.” Shane is hushing him, one arm wrapped about him and his muzzle caught between his fingers, but the other hand strokes through the fur of his chest, soothing him, calming him and making sure he listens to his mate. “Easy, easy Daryl.” He soothes, voice a low tone, calming to him, cutting through the instincts still bubbling beneath the surface and making sure he’s listening. Whining loudly he stops from struggling, letting his body relax into Shane’s, to just be held and understood. “I know, it’s the meds bud, I know, just calm it down for me.”

It helps. Shane’s voice, his touch, it helps bring him back down from the blood lust, from the high of the medication letting loose his more feral instincts. He can feel himself shudder a little, curling into Shane’s warmth and letting out a whimper. Slowly the fingers uncurl from his muzzle, and Daryl makes sure to lick at them in apology as Shane stops restraining him and instead just holds him, keeps him close and lets him feel the thud of his human’s heartbeat against his own chest. Shane is fine, Shane is happy with him, so his tail starts wagging again, thumping at the ground and he can’t help but enjoy just being with Shane for a moment.

His human is so good to him. Most would have seen him bare his teeth and put him down immediately, would have seen him as a danger and erased the problem. They thought of him the same as a badly trained dog, but not Shane. Shane knew him. His human knows how he works, knows that this is all the medication running through his blood and making him want to defend what is his. He’s possessive, and he makes sure to rub his head against Shane even more to scent him, to make sure he knows just how much he is Daryl’s. Shane’s fingers rake through his fur on his chest, and immediately Daryl is rolling onto his back in Shane’s lap, baring himself, showing how much he trusted this human with his vulnerable underbelly.

Of course Shane strokes him, runs his fingers down over his chest, rubbing at his belly and smiling down at him. “Yeah I know bud.” Shane coos to him, leaning down to let Daryl lick at his face in apology, understanding him so easily. The other man might not be fluent in wolf speak, but he’s getting there and Daryl couldn’t be prouder.

Shane is his rock, his anchor, the only human he could rely on to understand him. In feral form he can’t talk, can’t explain it, can’t try and bring his instincts into human language and tell him just how he feels. His body is still injured, his side aching, and Shane knows how much he trusts him when he allows his human’s fingers to pet over the wound. The petting helps, the human’s form of grooming him, sharing scent, sharing comfort and even if he’s not a pet, Daryl does adore getting to share this with Shane. It’s something that seems so simple, but there is always a meaning behind touch to wolves.

Humans took a lot of things for granted. There were rules and regulations for human touch, especially if they were in public. With wolves there was no shame. Wolves loved openly and freely, mingling with each other, grooming pack mates, enjoying tussles and play fights, and simply touching when it was natural to do so. There was no such thing as shame for wolves. He and Merle had always been close, Merle used to carry him by the scruff when he was a pup, groomed him every morning and evening, fed him mouth to mouth when his pup teeth had been too weak to break the hind of a deer. It was natural, it was love, it was just how things always had been.

But humans were so particular. Especially the males. Even for pack members as close as Shane and Rick it was different. The two male humans would barely touch at all, handshakes, claps onto the shoulder, maybe the occasional hug here and there, but it wasn’t constant, wasn’t natural, wasn’t just unthought of instinct to touch each other. It had confused him for so long when he’d first come to live with Shane, but nowadays he’d trained his human well, and gotten Shane to understand just how important and wonderful touch could be. Now, even just sitting in Shane’s lap in the park, rubbing their faces together and mouthing at his fingers when he’s feeling playful, it’s only natural habit. Shane is used to him, he’s learned to speak a little wolf, and no matter which form he’s in, Daryl knows Shane will always allow him to touch and be as close as he needs to be. Now that they’re mates it’s only heightened their connection, and every touch he shares with Shane is a testament to their perfect link with each other.

Whining lightly he remains in Shane’s grip, arching back to be able to lick behind his ears, enjoying the tiny huff of a laugh he gets from his human. He knows Shane gets ticklish, he knows everything about his human, and it’s a testament to their relationship that Shane has been able to calm him down from one extreme to the other. From a feral wolf ready to kill for him, to a calm and passive mate, eager to just groom and curl into his human’s warmth. Honestly Shane has calmed him down so much, he barely even remembers the rest of the world exists until Andrea speaks again.

“You’re so good with him.” Andrea says and when Daryl looks over to her she’s looking pretty on edge. She looks shocked, watching the two of them tussle together as if she wasn’t sure what was happening. “I thought he was going to bite me.” She explains with a laugh that stinks of nervousness and insecurity. Daryl can smell it on her, and it’s one of the reasons he adores Shane so much, his human was always so sure of himself, never uncertain, never weak or nervous.

“Nah, he would never do that.” Shane sounds so sure, still rubbing at him and Daryl is more than eager to whine in agreement. “I’m sorry he scared you Andrea, and he wouldn’t normally be like that. It’s just the medication, it’s got him acting a little off.” Shane explains, but Daryl sees no reason for it, he didn’t do anything other than growl and warn her off and besides, it worked. His human keeps him close, tugging on his ears for his attention, winding his fingers around his muzzle and manipulating his jaws open and closed in time with his next words. “I’m. Sorry. Andrea.” Shane says in a growly voice, and Daryl huffs out a laugh as he shakes his muzzle free and licks over his lips. “See? He even says he’s sorry.”

Andrea laughs, and just like that she’s at ease again, not stinking of worry or fear. But he knows she will never forget that. There will always be that image in her mind of him snarling at her, at him being prepared to rip out her throat to protect his mate. If nothing else, she has been warned and Daryl knows that he’s made his point.

It’s easier to relax now, now that he knows his pack is safe and protected. Even with Rick and Carl playing on the grass, throwing that Frisbee back and forth, he knows that nobody would dare to try and hurt them with him around. Shane’s fingers continue to stroke over him, running over the soft fur of his ears, keeping him grounded, keeping him calm and safe. Flopping onto his side he sprawls over Shane’s lap, paws nudging his human’s legs to his liking before he settles down to get comfortable. Head over Shane’s thigh, body curled around his human’s as he lets himself take a position of vigilance, of protection, ever ready to protect them from any threat he perceives.

Shane’s hand settles on his head, fingers slowly stroking over his forehead, tracing out a path down over the top of his muzzle repetitively, helping to soothe him, giving him the reassurance that his mate is safe for now. His human is good to him, grabbing Stryker from their bag and nudging his favourite toy against his muzzle until Daryl takes him, placing the toy between his paws so he can groom the squirrel’s fur gently. Shane continues petting him as he grooms Stryker’s tail and keeps watch on his pack. Andrea remains on their picnic blanket, chatting to Shane about the case they’d last worked on together, but she sits further back from them, there is distance now, and she doesn’t keep doing that stupid human giggling and fluttering her eyes at Shane anymore.

It’s not perfect, but it’s better, it feels safer and it seems as though his little display has put her back in her place. He knows he can rest for a while, and just tend to Stryker, enjoy Shane’s touch and feel comfortable knowing that his pack is safe and happy for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey guys! So again a big thank you to all of you for being so patient with me, I know it must be frustrating to have to wait so long for updates, but alas, the bills won't pay themselves and I don't have as much time to write as I used to. Either way, I am always looking for inspiration for these multiple chapter fics, most of them I have planned out, but for some I need some more ideas to get everything flowing together. So please if you wish to send me any thoughts or ideas or even just want to chat about things, you can contact me through these messages here or on my tumblr. I may not always be able to reply, but please know that all your messages are read and mean a lot to me. Thank you all for being so patient, and I hope you enjoy <3
> 
> A/N 2: Also if the chapters are all fucked up and out of order that's because AO3 likes to fuck me about and delete the first one, then fuck about and put then in whatever order it fucking feels like. I'll try to fix it, but fuck knows if I will be able to.

**Author's Note:**

> Awesome werewolf Daryl art by Masa!: http://beitae.tumblr.com/post/94067153230/more-doodles-of-werewolf-daryl-with-rick-shane


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